GRACE 


PHILIPVERRILL 
MIGHELS 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

TV 


Hearts  of  Grace 


GARDE  APPEARED  LIKE  THE  VERY  SPIRIT  OF  THE  FOREST 

Page  78 


HEARTS  of  GRACE 


BY 


PHILIP  VERRILL  MIGHELS 

AUTHOR  OP 

"The  Furnace  of  Gold,"  "Thurley  Ruxton," 
and  "As  It  Was  in  the  Beginning" 


New  York 
Desmond  FitzGerald,  Inc. 


Copyright,  1918 
By  DESMOND  FITZGERALD,  INC. 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 

SEVERAL   years   ago   there   was   published 
anonymously  "  When  a  Witch  Is  Young." 
This  is  a  revision  of  the  same  story. 


- 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

CHAPTER  PAOK 

I.  LeRoiestMort 9 

II.  A  Friendship  of  Chance 14 

III.  The  Germ  of  a  Passion 22 

PART  II. 

I.  A  Rover  and  his  Retinue 27 

II.  An  Ungodly  Performance 36 

III.  Twixt  Cup  and  Lip 45 

IV.  The  Opening  of  a  Vista 53 

V.  A  Weighty  Confidence 62 

VI.  Pan's  Brother  and  the  Nymph 71 

VII.  The  Meeting  in  the  Greenwood 78 

VIII.  Paying  the  Fiddler 86 

IX.  A  Matter  of  State 94 

X.  To  Foil  a  Spy 100 

XI.  Dangerous  Tributes 105 

XII.  Hours  that  Grow  Dark 110 

XIII.  A  Kiss  Deferred 121 

XIV.  Overtures  from  the  Enemy 133 

XV.  Love's  Inviting  Light 140 

iii 


iv  Contents. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVI.  Garde's  Lonely  Vigil 149 

XVII.  A  Night  Attack 153 

XVIII.  The  Glint  of  Treasure 160 

XIX.  Mutiny 164 

XX.  Garde's  Extremity 171 

XXI.  Randolph's  Courtship 180 

XXII.  David's  Coercion 187 

XXIII.  Goody's  Boy 193 

XXIV.  A  Greenwood  Meeting 200 

XXV.  Love's  Traps  for  Confessions 213 

XXVI.  A  Holiday  Ended 221 

XXVII.  In  Boston  Town 228 

XXVIII.  Love's  Garden 234 

XXIX.  The  Enemy  in  Power 243 

XXX.  A  Light  at  the  Tavern 249 

XXXI.  ARefugee 255 

XXXII.  A  Foster  Parent 260 

XXXIII.  Repudiated  Silver 269 

XXXIV.  Lodgings  for  the  Retinue 275 

XXXV.  Garde  Obtains  the  Jail  Keys 280 

XXXVI.  Garde's  Ordeal 287 

XXXVII.  Rats  in  the  Armory 296 

XXXVIII.  Love's  Long  Good-by 303 

XXXIX.  Mutations 308 

XL.  Golden  Oysters 314 

XLI.  Fate's  Devious  Ways 319 

XLII.  Little  Ruses  and  Waiting 327 

PART  III. 

I.  A  Topic  at  Court 885 

II.  Illness  in  the  Family 342 


Contents.  v 

CHAPTER  PAGK 

III.  Foiled  Purposes 345 

IV.  Making  History 350 

V.  Old  Acquaintances 357 

VI.  Juggling  with  Fire 362 

VII.  A  Beef-eater  Passes 368 

VIII.  A  Woman  Scorned 371 

IX.  Revelations 382 

X.  After  Six  Years 392 

XI.  A  Blow  in  the  Dark 398 

XII.  Adam's  Nurse ,» ...  403 

XIII.  Goody  in  the  Toils ' 407 

XIV.  Garde's  Subterfuge 414 

XV.  The  Midnight  Trial 425 

XVL  The  Gauntlet  Run 436 

XVII.  Bewitched..  ,.  443 


Hearts  of  Grace 


HEARTS  OF  GRACE 

PART  I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

LE   ROI  EST   MORT. 

THE  first,  the  last — the  only  King  the  Americans 
ever  had,  was  dead.  King  Philip,  the  mighty  Sachem 
of  the  Wampanoag  Indians,  had  been  slain.  His 
warriors  were  slaughtered  or  scattered.  The  war  was 
ended. 

It  was  the  13th  day  of  August,  in  the  year  1676. 
The  seemly  town  of  Plymouth  was  in  an  uproar.  The 
human  emotions  of  the  Puritan  people  of  Massachu 
setts  had  tugged  at  the  shackles  of  a  long  restraint 
and  had  broken  them  asunder.  Men,  women  and 
children,  they  surged  through  the  streets,  acclaiming 
a  buff-colored  army  that  filled  the  thoroughfares  like 
a  turgid  flood.  They  were  the  forces  which  Captain 
Benjamin  Church  had  led  to  the  camp  of  King  Philip, 
in  the  swamps  of  Mount  Hope  and  Pocasset,  where 
the  final  scene  of  the  gory  drama  had  been  enacted. 

Armed  with  clanking  swords,  shouldered  carbines, 
and  with  great  pistols  flopping  at  the  waist,  rode  a 
troop  of  sixty  horsemen,  caparisoned  in  glittering 

9 


io  Hearts  of  Grace. 

back,  breast  and  head  pieces.  Behind  them  tramped 
a  long  column  of  foot-soldiers;  brown  Puritans — 
stern,  mirth-denying,  lusty  at  fighting.  Above  their 
heads  swayed  a  thin  forest  of  pikestaves,  the  sunbeams 
glinting  from  their  steel  tips.  There  was  clinking 
of  metal  on  metal,  thud  and  clatter  of  hoofs  and  feet 
upon  the  paved  streets,  rattle  of  arms;  and,  above 
all,  the  shouts  of  the  townsmen  mingled  with  the 
shrill  treble  of  gabbling  women  and  children. 

At  the  forefront  of  this  motley  procession,  like  a 
mockery  of  a  drum-major,  heading  a  march  of 
doom,  walked  an  Indian  ally.  At  intervals  he 
leaped,  and  contorted  his  body  weirdly,  for  the 
purpose  of  the  better  calling  to  the  attention  of  the 
rabble  the  ghastly  proof  of  victory  that  he  bore — the 
head  of  the  great  King  Philip. 

Racing,  crowding,  surging,  the  townsfolk  made  no 
secret  of  their  ghoulish  delight  in  beholding  this  gory 
object.  Love,  anger,  joy,  hate — the  daily  emotions 
of  mankind  the  world  over — were  so  habitually  re 
pressed  by  these  serious  people  that,  as  a  vent  to  their 
pent-up  natures,  they  seemed  to  give  themselves  wholly 
to  an  orgy  of  gasping,  shuddering,  and  unholy  gloat 
ing.  They  laughed,  they  skipped  on  nimble  feet,  they 
sang  praises  hysterically  to  the  God  who  had  deliv 
ered  their  enemy  into  their  hands.  In  the  frenzy 
that  had  swept  like  a  fire  through  the  chaff  of  their 
shriveled  emotions,  all  bonds  of  deportment  loosened, 
and  the  young  men  and  women  seized  the  occasion  to 
look  unbridled  feelings  into  one  another's  eyes. 

About  the  extreme  rear  of  the  procession  another 
crowd  had  gathered.  The  people  hooted,  pushed, 


Le  Roi  est  Mort.  n 

craned  their  necks,  and  raced  to  keep  pace  with  the 
steady,  long  strides  of  the  soldiers.  Interest  centered 
upon  two  captives,  marching  together  between  the 
ranks  of  a  loosely-formed  guard  of  pike-men.  One 
was  a  mere  boy,  white  as  any  in  the  multitude,  and 
paler  than  the  palest.  The  other  was  an  Indian ;  noble 
of  feature  and  dignified  in  his  bearing.  He  was  old 
Annawon,  the  last  of  King  Philip's  councilors;  who, 
having  surrendered  under  promise  of  "  good  quar 
ter,"  was  even  now  being  led  to  his  death. 

The  greater  attraction,  however,  seemed  to  be  the 
boy.  Tall  and  lithe  he  was,  though  his  age  could 
scarcely  be  a  whit  above  fourteen.  Though  white,  he 
was  dressed  as  an  Indian,  and  bore  himself  like  a 
sullen  brave.  Through  the  stoicism,  which  he  labored 
to  hold  as  a  mask  upon  his  face,  the  signs  of  anguish 
played,  as  a  strong  under-current  betrays  itself  from 
beneath  the  surface  of  still  waters.  In  all  the  multi 
tude  he  had  but  a  single  friend — the  Red-man  with 
whom  he  was  marching.  He  gazed  stolidly  at  the 
crowding,  pitiless  faces.  Near  him  a  score  of  nimble 
boys  were  running,  a  frantic  desire  to  strike  him  show 
ing  in  their  eyes.  Then,  into  the  press  behind  these 
vicious  urchins,  towering  head  high  over  the  human 
tide,  a  man  strode.  Perched  upon  his  shoulder,  safe 
from  the  crush  and  jostling  of  the  rabble,  he  bore  a 
little  Puritan  maiden,  whose  brown  eyes  rested  upon 
the  boy  captive  with  an  expression  of  tenderest  com 
passion.  She  clung  to  her  huge  protector  with  a  tense 
little  fist,  while  her  other  hand  was  pressed  upon  her 
cheek  till  all  about  each  tiny  finger  was  white,  in  the 
bonny  apple-blush  of  her  color.  It  seemed  as  though 


12  Hearts  of  Grace. 

she  must  cry  her  sympathy  aloud  to  the  young  pris 
oner.  The  boy  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  look. 
Sweet  as  a  gleam  of  God's  sunshine  in  the  darkness 
of  a  dungeon ;  grateful  as  a  cool  spring  in  a  burning 
desert;  seemed  the  little  flower  face,  moving  above 
the  shifting  masks  of  brutality  and  hate.  With  his 
eyes  upon  it,  he  strode  more  manfully  along. 

The  boy  was  still  gazing  back  his  answer  to  the 
child,  when  an  urchin,  bolder  than  his  fellows,  hurled 
a  stone  that  struck  him  smartly  in  the  side.  With  a 
panther-like  motion  he  turned,  and  breaking  through 
his  loosely-formed  escort,  hurled  himself  upon  his 
assailant  and  bore  him  to  the  ground.  And  then, 
above  the  tumult  which  arose,  came  the  voice  of  the 
old  councilor,  Annawon,  who  was  marching  to  his 
death.  It  was  a  soft,  quick  word,  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  but  it  sufficed.  The  lad  in  buckskin  released 
his  overthrown  antagonist,  and  darted  back  to  his 
place  in  the  ranks.  His  eyes  blinked  swiftly,  but  in 
vain,  for  tears  of  rage  and  pain  forced  their  way 
between  his  eyelids,  and  made  dark  furrows  adown 
his  dusty  cheeks.  Angrily  he  wiped  them  away  upon 
his  sleeve.  When  he  looked  once  more  at  the  place 
where  the  little  Puritan  girl  had  smiled  from  the 
big  man's  shoulder,  she  was  gone. 

Foot-soldiers  closed  in  about  their  dangerous  charge. 
The  bawling  youths  of  Plymouth  seemed  to  multiply, 
as  though  by  magic.  But  their  opportunities  for 
committing  further  mischief  were  past,  for  the 
pageant  was  passing  the  gray  jail  building;  and  the 
escort,  wedging  their  way  through  the  press  of  people, 
forced  him  towards  the  gloomy  entrance.  Again,  above 


Le  Roi  est  Mort.  13 

the  clamor,  there  rose  a  voice,  and  in  the  Indian 

tongue  the  young  captive  heard  the  words: 
11  Farewell,  Little-Standing-Panther/7 
It  was  old  Annawon,  who  had  divined  that  there 

would  be  no  other  parting  with  the  lad  who  was  the 

only  creature  which  the  war  had  left  for  him  to  love. 
"  Farewell,"  and  again:    "  Farewell,"  cried  the 

boy.    And  the  grim  gates  of  the  prison-house  clanged 

shut  behind  him. 

***          ******* 

Night  closed  down — night  the  beneficent,  that 
shrouds  the  evidences  of  mankind's  barbarities.  Long 
since,  the  people,  at  the  request  of  Governor  Winslow, 
had  dispersed  to  their  several  homes.  The  head  of  the 
butchered  King  Philip  had  been  impaled  upon  a 
stake,  and  planted  on  the  public  square.  The  moon 
arose,  casting  a  pale,  cold  light,  and  a  passionless 
calm  brooded  upon  the  sleeping  village. 

At  length,  with  a  tread  as  silent  as  that  of  death 
itself,  an  active  figure  crept  from  shadow  to  shadow, 
adown  the  streets  which  the  night  had  silver-plated, 
till  it  came  to  the  square  where  was  planted  the  stake 
with  the  moon-softened  head  upon  it.  The  lone  visitor 
was  the  white  boy-captive,  still  dressed  in  his  Indian 
toggery.  He  had  eluded  the  tired  jail  guards. 

He  espied  that  which  he  sought,  and  came  forward 
slowly;  then  halted,  and  extended  his  arms  towards 
the  stake  with  its  motionless  burden.  Again  he  ad 
vanced  reverently,  murmuring  brokenly  in  the  Indian 
tongue : 

"  Metacomet — Metacomet — ,  my  foster  father, — I 
have  come." 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   FRIENDSHIP    OF    CHANCE. 

THROUGH  the  gray  mist  of  Plymouth's  dawn  there 
came  a  sound  of  footsteps,  and  then  a  murmur  of  melo 
dious  humming,  somewhat  controlled  and  yet  too 
sturdy  and  joyous  to  be  readily  accounted  for  in  the 
strict  Puritan  village.  Presently,  looming  out  of  the 
uncertain  light,  appeared  the  roughly-hewn  figure  of  a 
young  man  of  five  and  twenty.  He  was  singing  to  him 
self,  as  he  hastened  with  big  strides  through  the 
deserted  streets. 

On  the  point  of  passing  the  place  where  the  gibbeted 
head  of  King  Philip  made  a  rude  exclamation  point  in 
the  calm  of  gray  Plymouth,  the  early  riser  suddenly 
noted  the  curled-up  form  of  a  human  being  on  the 
ground,  one  arm  loosely  bent  about  the  iron  stake,  his 
head  resting  against  it,  and  his  eyes  fast  closed  in 
the  sleep  of  exhaustion.  The  man  started  slightly, 
halted  and  ceased  his  singing. 

He  blinked,  shifted  his  feet  uneasily  and  rubbed 
stoutly  at  his  jaw,  as  he  gazed  in  perplexity  at 
the  picture  before  him.  He  then  tiptoed  as  if 
to  go  on,  quietly,  about  his  own  business.  He 
glanced  at  the  head,  then  back  to  the  boy,  from 
whose  lips,  in  his  sleep,  a  little  moan  escaped.  The 
visitor  noted  the  traces  where  tears  had  channeled  down 
14 


A  Friendship  of  Chance.  15 

the  lad's  pale  cheeks.  There  was  something  unescap- 
able  in  the  attitude  of  the  bare  golden  head  against  the 
stake.  The  man  stopped  and  laid  his  big  hand  gently 
on  the  half-curled  locks. 

Instantly  the  boy  awoke,  leaped  to  his  feet  and  fell 
down  again,  from  sheer  stiffness,  staring  at  the  man 
with  eyes  somewhat  wild.  He  arose  again  at  once, 
more  steadily,  overcoming  the  cramps  in  his  muscles 
doggedly,  never  ceasing  for  a  second  to  watch  the  man 
who  had  waked  him. 

"  I  give  you  good  morrow,"  said  the  man.  "  It 
seems  to  me  you  have  need  of  a  friend,  since  you  have 
clearly  lost  one  that  you  much  esteemed/' 

There  was  persuasion  and  honesty  in  the  stranger's 
warm-blue  eyes,  good  nature  in  his  broad,  smooth  face 
and  a  large  capacity  for  affection  denoted  in  his  some 
what  sensuous  mouth.  Such  a  look  of  friendship  and 
utter  sincerity  as  he  bestowed  on  the  startled  and  defi 
ant  boy  before  him  could  not  have  been  easily  counter 
feited.  The  youthful  know  sincerity  by  intuition. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  the  boy,  his  voice  hoarse  and 
weakened.  "  What  would  anybody  want  with  me  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  William  Phipps,"  said  the  stranger, 
simply.  "  I  am  a  ship-builder  of  Boston.  If  you  have 
no  better  friend,  perhaps  I  would  do  till  you  can  find 
one.  I  am  on  my  way  to  Boston  now.  If  you  need  a 
friend  and  would  like  to  leave  Plymouth,  you  may  come 
with  me,  unless  you  feel  you  cannot  trust  any  one  about 
this  village."  He  paused  a  moment  and  then  added, 
"  I  think  you  must  be  the  boy  I  heard  of,  Adam  Bust, 
brought  in  with  the  captured  Indians." 

"My  name  is  Adam  Kust,"  the  boy  admitted.     "I 


16  Hearts  of  Grace 

have  no  friends  left.  If  you  have  been  helping  to  kill 
the  Wampanoags  I  would  rather  not  try  to  be  your 
friend.  But  I  know  I  would  like  you  and  I  should  be 
glad  to  go  to  Boston,  or  any  place  away  from  here."  In 
the  daylight  he  could  not  bear  to  look  up  at  the  head 
above  him. 

"I  have  been  too  busy  to  fight,"  said  William  Phipps, 
employing  the  same  excuse  he  had  used  for  friends  with 
recruiting  proclivities.  "  And  I  have  been  too  happy," 
he  added,  as  if  involuntarily.  ' '  So,  you  see,  there  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  not  be  your  friend.  Have  you 
had  any  breakfast  ?  "  He  put  out  his  hand  to  shake. 

"  No,"  said  Adam.  He  lost  his  hand  in  the  big  fist 
which  Phipps  presented,  and  restrained  himself  from 
crying  by  making  a  mighty  effort.  He  had  gone  with 
out  eating  for  two  days,  but  he  said  nothing  about  it. 

"  Then,"  said  Phipps  heartily,  "  the  sooner  we  start 
the  better.  We  can  get  something  hot  on  the  brig." 

He  began  his  long  striding  again.  Adam  hesitated  a 
moment.  He  looked  up  at  the  features  above  him,  his 
heart  gushing  full  of  emotion. 

Some  inarticulate  farewell,  in  the  Indian  tongne,  he 
breathed  through  his  quivering  lips.  His  eyes  grew 
dimmed.  He  fancied  he  saw  a  smile  of  farewell  and  of 
encouragement  play  intangibly  on  those  still,  saddened 
lineaments,  and  so  he  held  forth  his  arms  for  a  second 
and  then  turned  away  to  join  his  new-found  protector. 

William  Phipps,  having  thought  the  boy  to  be  follow 
ing  more  closely  than  he  was,  stopped  to  let  him  catch 
up.  Thus  he  noted  the  look  of  anguish  with  which  the 
lad  was  leaving  that  grim  remnant  of  King  Philip 
behind.  Phipps  was  one  of  Nature's  "  motherly  men  " 


A  Friendship  of  Chance.  17 

— hardly  ever  more  numerous  than  rocs'  eggs  on  the 
earth.  He  felt  his  heart  go  forth  to  Adam  Rust.  There 
fore  it  was  that  he  looked  down  in  the  boy's  face,  time 
after  time,  as  they  walked  along  together.  Thus  they 
came  to  the  water-front  and  wharves,  at  the  end  of  one 
of  which  the  brig  "  Captain  Spencer  *'  was  swinging. 

"This  ship  belongs  to  me  and  I  made  her/'  said 
Phipps,  with  candid  pride  in  his  achievement.  "  You 
shall  see  that  she  sails  right  merrily." 

They  went  aboard.  A  few  sailors  scrubbing  down 
the  deck,  barefooted  and  with  sleeves  at  elbow,  now 
abandoned  their  task  temporarily,  at  the  command  of 
the  mate,  who  had  seen  his  captain  coming,  to  hoist 
sail  and  let  go  the  hawsers.  The  chuckle  in  the  blocks, 
as  the  sailors  heaved  and  hauled  at  the  ropes,  gave 
Adam  Rust  a  pleasure  he  had  never  before  experienced. 

Breakfast  being  not  yet  prepared  for  service,  Phipps 
conducted  his  foundling  about  the  craft  for  a  look  at 
her  beauties.  When  Adam  had  patted  the  muzzle  of 
the  brig's  gun  and  felt  the  weight  of  a  naked  sword  in 
his  fist,  in  the  armory,  the  buoyancy  of  his  youth  put 
new  color  in  his  cheeks  and  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes.  He 
was  a  bright-natured,  companionable  lad,  who  grew 
friendly  and  smiled  his  way  into  one's  affections  rapidly, 
but  naturally.  When  he  and  Phipps  had  come  up 
again  to  the  deck,  after  breakfast,  they  felt  as  if  they 
had  always  been  friends. 

The  brig  was  under  way.  Shorewards  the  gray  old 
Atlantic  was  wrinkled  under  the  fretful  annoyance  of  a 
brisk,  salty  breeze.  The  ship  was  slipping  prettily  up 
the  coast,  with  stately  courtesies  to  the  stern  rocks  that 
stood  like  guardians  to  the  land. 


i8  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  I  think  we  shall  find  yon  were  born  for  a  sailor, 
Adam,"  said  the  master  of  the  craft.  "I  can  give  you 
my  word  it  is  more  joy  and  life  to  sail  a  ship  than  to 

make  one.  And  someday "but  he  halted.  The 

modest  boasts,  with  which  he  warmed  the  heart  of  his 
well  beloved  wife,  were  a  bit  too  sacred  for  repetition, 
even  to  a  boy  so  winning.  "  But,"  he  concluded,  "  per 
haps  you  would  like  to  tell  me  something  of  yourself." 

Thus  encouraged  Adam  related  his  story.  He  was 
the  son  of  John  Kust,  a  chivalrous  gentleman,  an  affec 
tionate  husband  and  a  serious  man,  with  a  light  heart 
and  a  ready  wit.  John  Kust  had  been  the  friend  of  the 
Indians  and  the  mediator  between  them  and  the  whites 
until  the  sheer  perfidy  of  the  Puritans  had  rendered  him 
hopeless  of  retaining  the  confidence  of  the  Bed-men, 
when  he  had  abandoned  the  office.  Adam's  mother  had 
been  dead  for  something  more  than  four  years.  Af 
flicted  by  his  sense  of  loss,  John  Eust  had  become  a 
strange  man,  a  restless  soul  hopelessly  searching  for 
that  other  self,  as  knights  of  old  once  sought  the  holy 
grail. 

He  went  forth  alone  into  the  trackless  wilderness 
that  led  endlessly  into  the  west.  Although  the  father 
and  son  had  been  knit  together  in  their  affections  by 
long  talks,  long  ranges  together  in  the  forests  and  by 
the  lessons  which  the  man  had  imparted,  yet  when  John 
Kust  had  gone  on  his  unearthly  quest,  he  could  not 
bear  the  thought  of  taking  young  Adam  with  him  into 
the  wilds. 

He  had  therefore  left  the  boy  with  his  friends,  the 
lad's  natural  guardians,  the  honorable  nation  of  Wam- 
panoags.  "  Keep  him  here,  teach  him  of  your  wisdom, 


A  Friendship  of  Chance.  19 

make  him  one  of  your  young  warriors,"  he  had  said  when 
he  went,  "  so  that  when  I  return  I  may  know  him  for 
his  worth." 

King  Philip,  the  mighty  Sachem  of  the  tribe,  had 
thereafter  been  as  a  foster-father  to  the  boy.  For  more 
than  two  years  the  Eed-man  had  believed  John  Eust  to 
have  found  his  final  lodge,  and  this  was  the  truth.  And 
perhaps  he  had  also  found  his  holy  grail.  He  perished 
alone  in  the  trackless  forest.  Adam  had  learned  his 
wood-lore  of  his  red  brothers.  He  was  stout,  lithe, 
wiry  and  nimble.  He  rode  a  horse  like  the  torso  of  a 
centaur.  He  was  a  bit  of  a  boaster,  in  a  frank  and 
healthy  way. 

King  Philip's  war,  ascribed,  as  to  causes,  to  "  the 
passion  of  the  English  for  territory ;  their  confidence 
that  God  had  opened  up  America  for  their  exclusive 
occupancy ;  their  contempt  for  the  Indians  and  their 
utter  disregard  for  their  rights,"  had  come  inexorably 
upon  the  Wampanoags.  In  its  vortex  of  action,  move 
ment,  success  and  failure  at  last  for  the  Indians,  Adam 
Rust  had  been  whirled  along  with  Metacomet.  He  had 
never  been  permitted  by  King  Philip  to  fight  against 
his  ' ( white  brothers,"  but  he  had  assisted  to  plan  for  the 
safety  of  the  old  men,  women  and  children,  in  procur 
ing  game  and  in  constructing  shelters.  He  had  learned 
to  love  these  silently  suffering  people  with  all  his  heart. 
The  fights,  the  hardships,  the  doom,  coming  inevitably 
upon  the  hopeless  Wampanoags,  had  made  the  boy  a 
man,  in  some  of  the  innermost  recesses  of  a  heart's  suf 
fering.  He  had  seen  the  last  sad  remnants  of  the 
Wampanoags,  the  Pocassets  and  the  Narragansetts 
scatter,  to  perish  in  the  dismal  swamps.  He  had  wit- 


2O  Hearts  of  Grace 

nessed  the  death  of  King  Philip,  brought  upon  him  by 
a  treacherous  fellow  Red-man.  And  then  he  had 
marched  in  that  grim  procession. 

Adam  made  no  attempt  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  mag 
nitude  of  his  loss.  It  would  not  have  been  possible. 
There  is  something  in  human  nature  which  can  never 
be  convinced  that  death  has  utterly  stilled  a  beloved 
voice  and  quenched  the  fire  of  the  soul  showing  through 
a  pair  of  eyes  endeared  by  companionship.  This  in 
Adam  made  him  feel,  even  as  he  told  his  tale  to  William 
Phipps,  that  he  was  somehow  deserting  his  faithful 
friends. 

Bareheaded  on  the  sun-lit  deck  as  he  told  his  story, 
lithe  in  his  gestures,  splendidly  scornful  when  he  imi 
tated  the  great  chieftains  of  the  tribes,  and  then  like 
a  young  Viking  as  at  last  he  finished  his  narrative  and 
looked  far  and  wide  on  the  sparkling  sea,  in  joyousness 
at  the  newer  chapter  which  seemed  to  open  to  the  very 
horizons  themselves  before  him,  Adam  awakened  the 
lusty  youth  and  daring  in  William  Phipps  and  the 
dreams  of  a  world's  career  always  present  in  his  brain. 

The  man's  eyes  sparkled,  as  he  spun  the  wheel  that 
guided  the  brig,  bounding  beneath  their  feet.  A  rest 
lessness  seized  upon  the  spirit  in  his  breast. 

"  Adam,"  he  said,  "do  you  like  this  ship  ?" 

<<  Yes  ! — oh,  it  makes  me  feel  like  shouting  !  "  the  boy 
exclaimed.  ef  I  wish  I  could  straddle  it,  like  a  horse, 
and  make  it  go  faster  and  wilder,  'way  off  there — and 
everywhere  !  Oh,  don't  it  make  you  breathe  ! " 

"  Then,"  said  Phipps,  repressing  his  own  love  of  such 
a  madness  as  Adam  had  voiced,  "  let  us  go  for  along  sail 
together.  I  have  long  had  in  mind  a  voyage  for  trad- 


A  Friendship  of  Chance.  21 

ing  to  Hispaniola.     If  you  would  like  to  go  with  me, 
I  will  get  the  brig  ready  in  a  week." 

For  his  answer  young  Adam  leaped  as  if  he  would 
spur  the  ship  in  the  ribs  and  ride  her  to  the  end  of  the 
earth  forthwith. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  GERM  OF  A  PASSION. 

A  BONNIE  little  Puritan  maid,  Mistress  Garde  Mer 
rill,  stood  in  the  open  doorway  at  her  home,  fervently 
hugging  her  kitten.  The  sunlight  seemed  almost  like 
beaten  gold,  so  tangibly  did  it  lay  upon  the  house,  the 
vines  that  climbed  the  wall,  and  the  garden  full  of  old- 
fashioned  flowers. 

A  few  leaves,  which  had  escaped  from  the  trees,  in  a 
longing  to  extend  their  field  of  romping,  were  being 
whirled  about  in  a  brisk  zephyr  that  spun  in  a  corner. 
A  sense  of  warmth  and  fragrance  made  all  the  world 
seem  wantoning  in  its  own  loveliness. 

Little  Garde,  watching  the  frolic  of  the  leaves,  and 
thinking  them  pretty  elves  and  fairies,  dancing,  pres 
ently  looked  up  into  the  solemn  visage  of  a  passing 
citizen,  who  had  paused  at  the  gate. 

"  Mistress  Merrill,"  he  said,  gravely,  after  a  moment's 
inspection  of  the  bright,  enchanting  little  face,  "your 
eyes  have  not  the  Puritan  spirit  of  meekness/'  There 
upon  he  departed  on  his  way,  sadly  shaking  his  head. 

Garde's  eyes,  in  all  truth,  were  dancing  right  joy 
ously  ;  and  dancing  was  not  accounted  a  Puritan  de 
votion.  Such  brown,  light-ensnaring  eyes  could  not, 
22 


The  Germ  of  a  Passion.  23 

however,  constrain  themselves  to  melancholy.  ^0 
more  could  the  apple-red  of  her  smooth,  round  cheeks 
retreat  from  the  ardor  of  the  sun.  As  for  her  hair,  like 
strands  on  strands  of  spun  mahogany,  no  power  on 
earth  could  have  disentangled  its  nets  wherein  the  rays 
of  golden  light  had  meshed  and  intermeshed  them 
selves.  In  her  brightness  of  color,  with  her  black  and 
white  kitten  on  her  arm,  the  child  was  a  dainty  little 
human  jewel. 

She  was  watching  a  bee  and  a  butterfly  when  a  shadow 
fell  again  into  the  yard,  among  the  flowers,  at  the  ex- 
trance.  Garde  felt  her  attention  drawn  and  centered 
at  once.  She  found  herself  looking  not  so  much  at  a 
bareheaded  boy,  as  fairly  into  the  depths  of  his  very 
blue  and  steadfast  eyes. 

The  visitor  stood  there  with  his  hands  clasping  two 
of  the  pickets  of  which  the  gate  was  fashioned.  He  had 
seen  everything  in  the  garden  at  one  glance,  but  he  was 
looking  at  Garde.  His  eyes  began  laughingly,  then 
seriously,  but  always  frankly,  to  ask  a  favor. 

"  I  prithee  come  in,"  said  Garde,  as  one  a  little  struck 
with  wonder. 

The  boy  came  in.  Garde  met  him  in  the  path  and 
gave  him  her  kitten.  He  took  it,  apparently  because 
she  gave  it,  and  not  because  he  was  inordinately  fond 
of  cats.  It  seemed  to  Garde  that  she  knew  this  boy, 
and  yet  he  had  on  a  suit  that  suggested  a  young  sailor, 
and  she  had  never  made  the  acquaintance  of  any  sail 
ors  whatsoever.  If  he  would  only  look  elsewhere  than 
at  her  face,  she  thought,  perhaps  she  could  remember. 

"  See  them,"  she  said,  and  she  pointed  to  where  the 
leaves  were  once  more  capering  in  the  corner. 


24  Hearts  of  Grace 

The  boy  looked,  but  his  gaze  would  swing  back  to  its 
North,  which  it  found  in  two  brown  eyes. 

"I  saw  you  that  day  in  Plymouth,"  he  said.  "And 
I  got  out  of  their  old  jail,  and  I  didn't  see  anybody  else 
that  looked  kind  or  nice  among  all  those  people." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Garde,  suddenly  remembering  every 
thing,  "  oh,  you  were — that  boy  marching  with  the 
old  Indian.  I  was  so  sorry.  And  I  am  so  glad  that  you 
got  away.  I  am  glad  you  came  to  see  me.  Grand 
father  and  I  were  down  there  for  a  visit — so  I  saw  you. 
Oh  dear  me  !  "  She  looked  at  her  young  visitor  with 
eyes  open  wide  by  amazement.  It  seemed  almost  too 
much  to  believe  that  the  very  boy  she  had  seen  and  so 
pitied  and  liked,  in  that  terrible  procession  at  Plymouth, 
should  actually  be  standing  here  before  her  in  her 
grandfather's  garden  !  "  Oh  dear  me  !  "  she  presently 
said  again. 

"I  hate  Plymouth!"  said  the  boy,  "but  I  like 
Boston." 

"I  am  so  glad,"  said  Garde.  "Will  you  tell  me  your 
name  ?  Mine  is  Garde  Merrill." 

The  boy  said  :    "My  name  is  Adam  Bust." 

"  I  was  named  for  all  my  aunts,"  the  maid  imparted, 
as  if  eager  to  set  a  troublesome  matter  straight  at  once, 
"  Gertrude,  Abigail,  Rosella,  Dorothy  and  Elizabeth. 
The  first  letters  of  their  names  spell  G-A-R-D-E, 
Garde." 

Her  visitor  was  rendered  speechless  for  a  moment. 
"Metacomet  and  all  the  Indians  used  to  call  me  Little- 
Standing-Panther,"  he  then  said,  boyishly,  not  to  be 
outdone  in  the  matter  of  names. 

"  Metacomet — King  Philip  ?    Oh,  then  you  are  the 


The  Germ  of  a  Passion.  25 

boy  that  used  to  live  with  the  Indians,  and  that  was 
how  they  got  you  !  "  gasped  the  little  maid.  "  Grand 
father  told  auntie  all  about  it.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  live 
with  the  Indians  !  I  am  very, very  sorry  they  got  you  I'9 
But  I  am  glad  you  came  to  see  me." 

Adam  flushed  with  innocent  and  modest  pride,  thus 
to  impress  his  small  admirer,  who  was  named  so  for 
midably.  He  thought  that  nothing  so  pleasant  had 
ever  happened  in  all  his  life. 

"  It  is  too  sad  to  live  with  Indians,"  he  answered. 
A  mist  seemed  to  obscure  the  light  in  his  eyes  and 
to  cast  a  shadow  between  them  and  the  sweet  face  at 
which  he  was  looking  with  frank  admiration.  The 
cloud  passed,  however,  as  clouds  will  in  the  summer, 
and  his  gaze  was  again  one  of  illuminated  smiles.  "  I 
am  a  sailor  now,"  he  said,  with  a  little  boast  in  his 
voice.  "  To-morrow  morning  we  are  going  to  start  for 
Hispaniola." 

"  Oh  dear  me  ! "  said  Garde,  in  sheer  despair  of  an 
adequate  expression  of  her  many  emotions.  Then  she 
added  contritely  :  "  I  mustn't  say  '  Oh  dear  me  ! '  but 
— oh  dear — I  wish  I  might." 

"I  shan't  mind,"  said  Adam. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  to  Hispaniola,  too,"  said  Garde, 
honestly.  "  I  hate  to  be  kept  here  as  quiet  as  a  clock 
that  doesn't  go.  I  suppose  you  couldn't  take  me  ?  Let's 
sit  down  with  the  kitten  and  think  it  over  together." 

"I  don't  think  we  could  take  any  girls,"  said  Adam, 
seating  himself  at  her  side  on  the  porch,  "  but  I  could 
bring  yon  back  something  when  I  come." 

"  Oh,  let's  talk  all  about  what  we  would  rather  have 
most,"  Garde  responded. 


26  Hearts  of  Grace 

So  their  fingers  mingled  in  the  fur  of  the  kitten  and 
they  talked  of  fabulous  things  with  which  the  West 
Indies  were  reported  to  abound.  His  golden  hair,  and 
her  hair  so  darkly  red,  made  the  picture  in  the  sunlight 
a  thing  complete  in  its  brightness  and  beauty.  The 
wind  floated  a  few  stray  filaments,  richly  red  as  mahog 
any,  from  the  masses  on  Garde's  pretty  brow,  across  to 
the  ringlets  on  Adam's  temple.  To  and  fro,  over  these 
delicate  copper  wires,  stretched  for  its  purpose,  the 
sweet  love  that  comes  first  to  a  lad  and  a  maid,  danced 
with  electrical  activity. 

"If  you  are  going  to-morrow,"  said  Garde,  "you 
must  see  all  the  flowers  and  everything  now."  She  there 
fore  took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  about  the  gar 
den,  first  she,  then  he,  and  then  she  once  more  carrying 
the  kitten. 

They  were  still  in  the  midst  of  their  explorations  of 
the  garden,  which  required  that  each  part  should  be 
visited  several  times,  when  the  gate  opened  and  in 
walked  Garde's  tall,  stern-looking  grandfather. 

David  Donner  rubbed  his  eyes  in  amazement,  hardly 
believing  that  his  senses  could  actually  be  recording  a 
picture  of  his  granddaughter,  hand  in  hand  with  some 
utter  stranger  of  a  boy,  in  his  own  precincts.  He  came 
quickly  toward  the  pair,  making  a  sound  that  came 
within  an  ell  of  being  a  shout. 

Garde  looked  up  in  sudden  affright.  Adam  regarded 
the  visitor  calmly  and  without  emotion.  Having  first 
dropped  the  young  sailor's  hand,  Garde  now  resolutely 
screwed  her  little  warm  fingers  back  into  the  boy's  fist. 

"Grandfather,"  she  said  boldly,  "I  shall  sail  to 
morrow  for  Hispaniola." 


The  Germ  of  a  Passion.  27 

David  Dormer,  at  this,  was  so  suddenly  filled  with 
steam  pressure,  which  he  felt  constrained  to  repress, 
that  his  eyes  nearly  popped  out  of  their  sockets. 

"  Go  away,  boy,"  he  said  to  Adam.  "  Mistress  Mer 
rill,  your  conduct  is  quite  uncalled  for." 

Having  divined  that  his  sister  had  deserted  her  post 
and  gone,  as  was  her  wont,  to  the  nearest  neighbor's, 
for  a  snack  of  gossip,  he  glared  at  Adam,  swooped  down 
upon  Garde  and  caught  her  up  in  his  arms  abruptly, 
kitten  and  all. 

Her  hold  on  Adam's  hand  being  rudely  wrenched 
asunder,  Garde  felt  her  heart  break  incontinently.  She 
began  to  weep  without  restraint,  in  fact,  furiously.  She 
also  kicked,  and  was  also  deporting  herself  when  the 
door  was  slammed  behind  the  forms  of  herself,  her  kit 
ten  and  her  grandfather,  a  moment  later. 

Adam  looked  once  where  she  had  gone.  His  face  had 
assumed  a  stolidity  which  he  was  far  from  feeling.  He 
walked  to  the  gate  and  went  away,  without  once  turn 
ing  to  look  back  at  the  house. 

Mistress  Garde,  confronted  by  David  Donner  at  close 
quarters,  soon  regained  her  maidenly  composure  and 
wept  surreptitiously  on  the  stomach  of  the  kitten.  At 
length  she  looked  up  in  defiance  at  the  silent  old  man. 

"I  have  changed  the  name  of  my  kitten,"  she  said. 
"  His  name  is  Little-Standing-Panther  ! " 

Her  grandfather,  to  whom  this  outbreak  seemed 
something  of  an  indication  of  mental  disorder,  on  her 
part,  stared  at  the  child  dumbly.  Not  without  some 
justification  for  her  deductions,  Garde  thought  him 
quelled.  In  a  spirit  of  reckless  defiance,  and  likewise 
to  give  some  vent  to  her  feelings,  she  suddenly  threw 


28  Hearts  of  Grace 

her  arms  about  the  bedewed  kitten,  on  its  pillow, 
pressed  her  face  against  its  fur  and  said  to  it,  fervently: 

"  Little-Standing-Panther,  I  love  you,  and  love  you 
and  love  you  ! " 

Grandfather  Donner  looked  up  in  alarm.  "  Tut,  tut, 
my  child,"  said  he,  "  love  is  a  passion." 


PART  II. 
CHAPTER  I. 

A  ROVER  AND  HIS  RETINUE. 

His  only  gold  was  in  his  hair ; 

He  had  no  silver  hoard  ; 
But  steel  he  had,  enow  to  spare — 

In  his  thews  and  in  his  sword  ! 

TOWARD  the  close  of  a  glorious  day  in  September, 
1683,  William  Phipps  beheld  a  smart  brig  nose  her  way 
up  the  harbor  of  Boston,  and  drop  in  her  anchor  in  the 
field  of  water  wherein  his  ship-yard  thrust  its  toes.  A 
small  boat  then  presently  put  forth  and  made  straight 
for  the  ship-yard  landing,  where  three  men  calmly 
alighted,  throwing  ashore  a  small  heap  of  shabby-gen 
teel-looking  baggage. 

Somewhat  annoyed,  thus  to  have  his  precincts  em 
ployed  by  any  Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  of  chance,  Phipps 
stepped  from  between  the  ribs  of  a  ship's  skeleton, 
which  was  being  daily  articulated,  and  strode  toward 
the  intruders.  Then  a  rumble,  which  ought  to  have 
been  a  shout,  broke  from  his  lips,  about  the  same  second 
that  a  roar  of  joy  appeared  to  leap  out  of  the  foremost 
of  the  strangers,  who  had  landed  and  who  were  coming 
boldly  forward. 

29 


3O  Hearts  of  Grace 

William  Phipps  and  the  leader  of  the  invading  trio 
then  rushed  hotly  together  and  collided,  giving  each 
other  a  bear-like  hug  from  which  the  ship-builder  pres 
ently  extricated  himself  at  a  thought  of  how  he  might 
be  shocking  all  or  any  good  Puritans  who  might  chance 
to  be  witnessing  the  scene. 

"  Well,  shatter  my  hilt !  and  God  bless  you  !  if  it 
isn't  your  same  old  beloved  self  ! "  said  the  stranger, 
heartily. 

"  My  boy  !  Bless  your  eyes,  Adam,  I  never  thought 
to  see  you  again  !  "  said  bluff  William  Phipps.  "You 
big  young  rascal !  You  full-rigged  ship  !  Where  have 
you  come  from  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  making  me 
swear  myself  into  purgatory  at  your  carelessness  in  get 
ting  yourself  killed  ?  You  twenty-gun  frigate — you — 
you  big " 

He  left  off  for  very  constraint,  for  his  throat  blocked 
up,  despite  his  most  heroic  efforts.  He  and  Adam 
Rust  began  to  roar  with  laughter,  the  tears  in  their 
eyes  needing  some  excuse.  Meantime  the  two  com 
panions  who  had  come  with  the  young  rover,  stood 
gazing  about  them,  in  patience,  and  likewise  looking 
in  wonder  on  the  two  men  before  them. 

There  was  reason  enough  to  look,  for  Adam  and 
Phipps  were  a  pair  to  command  attention.  It  seemed 
as  if  a  founder  had  used  the  big  ship-builder  as  a  pat 
tern  on  which  to  refine  his  art  in  casting  the  younger 
man.  Adam's  back  was  a  trifle  narrower ;  his  chest 
was  a  bit  wider  ;  he  was  trimmer  at  the  waist,  neater 
at  the  thigh,  longer-armed.  His  hands  were  smaller, 
just  as  his  movements  were  quicker  and  lighter. 

Although    Adam's  hair  crowned   him  with  tawny 


A  Rover  and  his  Retinue.  31 

ringlets  of  gold,  while  that  of  Phipps  was  browner,  and 
though  the  young  fellow  wore  a  small  mustache,  in 
contrast,  to  the  smooth-shaved  face  of  his  friend,  it 
might  yet  be  said  that  the  two  men  looked  alike.  Both 
had  steadfast  eyes  with  the  same  frank  expression,  the 
same  blue  tint  and  the  same  integrity  about  them. 

In  their  dress  the  two  men  differed.  William  Phipps, 
whatsoever  he  might  indulge  himself  in  doing  when 
away  on  the  sea,  conformed  to  the  dark-brown  sim 
plicity  of  the  Puritans  when  in  Boston.  Adam,  on 
the  other  hand,  wore  a  brown  velvet  coat,  with  long 
green  sleeves;  which,  though  at  present  somewhat 
faded  and  moulting,  had  once  been  fine  feathers  in 
England.  His  shirt  still  showed  evidences  of  having 
been  adorned  with  a  profusion  of  ruffles;  while  his 
breeches  of  deep  forest  green,  disappeared  at  the 
knee  into  the  maw  of  his  wide-topped  leather  boots. 
He  wore  at  his  hip  a  veteran  blade  of  steel,  in  a 
scabbard  as  battered  as  the  outer  gate  of  a  strong 
hold.  When  not  in  his  fighting  fist,  the  hilt  of  this 
weapon  contented  itself  with  caresses  from  his  softer 
hand,  the  left. 

The  two  men  having  shaken  hands  for  the  third  time, 
and  having  looked  each  other  over  from  head  to  foot, 
and  laughed  and  asked  each  other  a  dozen  questions,  to 
which  neither  had  returned  any  answers,  Adam  sud 
denly  remembered  his  comrades,  waiting  in  the  back 
ground.  He  turned  to  them  now,  not  without  affec 
tion. 

' '  Here,  Pike  and  Halberd,"  he  said,  "  you  must  meet 
my  third  father,  Captain  William  Phipps,  a  noble  man 
to  whom  you  will  owe  allegiance  all  your  miserable 


32  Hearts  of  Grace 

lives.  William,  these  are  my  beef-eaters.  Don't  ask 
me  where  I  got  them.  They  are  neither  out  of  jail  nor 
heaven.  But  they  have  let  me  save  their  lives  and  feed 
them  and  clothe  them,  and  they  are  valiant,  faithful 
rascals.  To  know  them  is  to  love  them,  and  not  to 
know  them  is  to  be  snubbed  by  Satan.  They  have  been 
my  double  shadow  for  a  year,  sharing  my  prosperous 
condition  like  two  peers  of  the  realm." 

The  beef-eaters  grinned  as  they  exchanged  saluta 
tions  with  Phipps.  Pike  was  a  short  individual,  in 
clined  to  be  fat,  even  when  on  the  slimmest  of  rations. 
The  pupils  of  his  eyes  were  like  two  suns  that  had  risen 
above  the  horizon  of  his  lower  lids,  only  to  obscure 
themselves  under  the  cloud-like  lids  above.  Their  ex 
pression,  especially  when  he  gazed  upward  into  Adam's 
face,  was  something  too  appealingly  saint-like  and  be 
seeching  for  anything  mortal  to  possess.  Halberd  was 
a  ladder  of  a  man  up  which  everything,  save  success, 
had  clambered  to  paint  expressions  on  his  face,  which 
was  grave  and  melancholy  to  the  verge  of  the  ludicrous. 
He  had  two  little  bunches  of  muscle,  each  of  which 
stuck  out  like  half  a  walnut,  at  the  corners  of  his  jaws, 
where  they  had  grown  and  developed  as  a  result  of  his 
clamping  his  molars  together,  in  a  determination  to  do 
or  to  be  something  which  had,  apparently,  never  as 
yet  transpired. 

The  two  looked  about  as  much  like  beef-eaters  as 
a  mouse  looks  like  a  man-eater.  They  were  ragged, 
where  not  fantastic,  in  their  apparel  ;  they  were  ob 
viously  fitter  for  a  feast  than  a  fight,  for  the  sea  had 
depleted  both  of  their  hoardings  of  vigor  and  courage. 

"Sire,"  said   Halberd,  theatrically,  "we  have  had 


A  Rover  and  his  Retinue.  33 

nothing  but  good  reports  of  you  for  a  year."  Whether 
he  placed  his  hand  on  his  heart  or  his  stomach,  as  he 
said  this,  and  what  he  meant  to  convey  as  his  meaning, 
could  never  be  wholly  clear. 

"  We  shall  be  honored  to  fight  for  you,  if  need  arise," 
said  Pike,  who  panted  somewhat,  on  all  occasions, 
"  while  there  is  a  breath  in  our  bodies." 

"It  is  a  privilege  to  know  you  both,"  said  Phipps, 
whose  gravity  was  as  dry  as  tinder. 

"Any  friend  of  the  Sachem's  is  a  friend  of  ours," 
responded  Halberd.  He  said  this  grandly  and  made  a 
profound  bow. 

"  The  '  Sachem '  ?  "  repeated  Phipps,  and  he  looked 
at  Adam,  inquiringly. 

Adam  had  the  grace  to  blush  a  trifle,  thus  to  be 
caught  in  one  of  the  harmless  little  boasts  in  which  he 
had  indulged  himself,  over  sea.  "  Just  a  foolish  habit 
the  two  have  gotten  into,"  he  murmured. 

"  Ah,"  said  William  Phipps.  "  Well,  then,  Sachem, 
it  will  soon  be  growing  dark,  you  had  best  come  home 
with  me  to  dinner." 

Involuntarily  Adam  turned  about  to  look  at  the  beef 
eaters.  Their  eyes  had  abruptly  taken  on  a  preter 
natural  brightness  at  the  word  dinner. 

"I  have  much  to  ask  you  and  much  to  tell  you," 
Phipps  added.  "  And  the  good  wife  would  exact  this 
honor  if  she  knew  you  were  come." 

The  invitation  did  not  include  Adam's  retinue.  He 
swallowed,  as  if  the  delicious  odors  of  one  of  Goodwife 
Phipp's  dinners  were  about  to  escape  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  the  honors  are  all  the  other  way 
about,  but — the  fact  is — a  previous  engagement — I — I 
3 


34  Hearts  of  Grace 

have  promised  a  rousing  hot  din — I  have  accepted 
an  invitation  to  dine  with  the  beef-eaters,  at  the  Crow 
and  Arrow." 

The  ship  builder-knew  all  about  those  "  rousing  hot 
dinners  "  of  cold  eel-pie,  potatoes  and  mustard,  for  which 
the  Crow  and  Arrow  tavern  was  not  exactly  famous. 
He  looked  at  Adam,  to  whom  as  their  sachem  the 
beef -eaters  appealed  with  their  eyes,  like  two  faithful 
animals.  Adam  was  regarding  the  pair  silently,  a  faint 
smile  of  cheer  and  camaraderie  on  his  face. 

"  But — but  my  invitation  included  our  friends," 
Phipps  hastened  to  say.  "  Come,  come,  the  tavern 
can  wait  till  to-morrow.  Gentlemen,  you  will  certainly 
not  disappoint  me." 

"  'Tis  well  spoken  that  the  tavern  can  wait,"  said 
Pike. 

"  To  disappoint  the  friend  of  the  Sachem  would  be  a 
grievous  thing,"  said  Halberd.  "  Let  the  galled  tavern 
sweat  with  impatience." 

They  would  all  have  started  away  together  at  once, 
had  not  Phipps  noted  the  heap  of  baggage,  left  un 
tidily  upon  his  landing  when  the  travelers  arrived. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "  Adam,  you  know  the  way  to  the 
house,  suppose  you  and  your  friends  carry  your  worldly 
goods  to  the  tavern,  engage  your  apartments,  and  then 
follow  me  on.  I,  in  the  meantime,  can  hasten  home 
to  apprise  the  wife  that  you  are  coming,  with  the  beef 
eaters,  and  she  can  therefore  make  due  preparations 
in  honor  of  the  event." 

"  This  is  good  sense,"  said  Adam.  "  Go  along,  or  we 
shall  be  there  before  you." 

Phipps,  with  a  half  dozen  backward  looks  at  his 


A  Rover  and  his  Retinue.  35 

guests  and  their  shabby  chattels,  made  his  way  out  of 
the  ship-yard  without  further  delay.  Adam  and  his 
retinue  gripped  three  or  four  parcels  apiece  and  started, 
with  clank  of  sword,  and  in  some  discomfort,  for  the 
Crow  and  Arrow. 


CHAPTER  II. 

AN"  UNGODLY   PERFORMANCE. 

ADAM  RUST  knew  the  Crow  and  Arrow  more  by  that 
repute  which  had  traveled  back  to  England,  through 
the  medium  of  young  stalwarts  and  sailors,  than  he  did 
from  personal  acquaintance  with  its  charms.  He  had 
seen  the  place  frequently  enough,  when  first  he  came 
to  Boston  with  William  Phipps,  but  the  town  had  ex 
panded  much  since  then  and  bore  an  air  of  unfamili- 
arity.  The  young  man  and  his  beef-eaters  therefore 
wandered  somewhat  from  their  course. 

Being  overladen  and  dressed  out  of  the  ordinary 
fashion,  the  trio  soon  found  themselves  attracting 
attention,  particularly  from  certain  of  the  youths  of 
the  quarter  and  the  rough  characters  incidental  to 
shipping  and  the  neighborhood  thereof.  Adam  was 
carrying  a  long  box,  somewhat  decrepit  with  age.  It 
swung  against  his  legs  and  struck  an  occasional  post, 
or  a  corner,  held  insecurely  as  it  was  by  his  little  finger 
only,  which  was  passed  through  a  brass  handle.  In 
this  manner,  and  with  a  growing  cluster  of  curious 
persons  beginning  to  follow  on  behind,  the  party  were 
in  sight  of  the  tavern  at  last,  when  this  long  box  of 
Adam's  abruptly  opened  and  spilled  out  a  richly  dark 
ened  old  violin. 
36 


An  Ungodly  Performance.  37 

With  a  short  exclamation  of  impatience,  Adam  halted 
and  dropped  his  other  bundles.  Over  these  tall  Halberd 
fell,  with  a  great  clatter  of  weapons,  tin  box  and  shaken 
bones.  Adam  fended  him  off  from  the  violin,  snatched 
it  np  and  scrutinized  it  with  the  eager  concern  which  a 
mother  might  bestow  upon  a  delicate  child.  He  found 
jt  uninjured,  but,  as  it  might  have  been  smashed,  he 
clung  to  it  fondly,  reluctant  to  place  it  again  in  its 
treacherous  case. 

Naturally  the  downfall  of  Halberd  had  delighted  the 
gamin  and  the  sailors  following.  These  formed  a 
cluster  about  the  party,  and  their  numbers  drew  addi 
tional  spectators  rapidly.  A  number  of  seafaring  men 
shoved  stoutly  forward,  their  eyes  glistening  at  sight 
of  the  musical  instrument. 

"  I  say,  give  us  something,  then,  on  that  there  red 
boy  !  "  demanded  one  of  the  men,  as  healthy  a  looking 
rascal  as  ever  drew  breath. 

"  You  look  a  bonny  lad,  come  on — there's  a  good 
nn,"  said  another. 

"Battle  her  guts,"  said  a  third.  "We  ain't  heard 
the  like  of  a  fiddle  since  we  came  to  this  town  of 
preachers." 

Adam  looked  quietly  about  him.  He  knew  most  of 
the  fellows  about  in  the  rude  circle  for  rough  English 
rovers  who  would  love  him  if  he  played,  or  knock  him 
and  his  belongings  playfully  into  the  street  if  he  refused. 
He  was  not  accustomed  to  churlishness ;  moreover,  he 
felt  particularly  in  the  mood  for  playing.  The  ruddy 
sunset,  the  warm  breath  of  the  passing  day,  the  very 
taste  of  American  air,  seemed  lusty  and  joyous,  despite 
the  rigid  Puritanical  spirit  of  the  mirth-denying  people 


38  Hearts  of  Grace 

of  the  colony.  He  took  up  the  bow,  twanged  the 
strings,  tightened  two  that  had  become  laggard,  and 
jumped  into  the  middle  of  a  rollicking  composition  that 
seemed  to  bubble  up  out  of  the  body  of  the  violin  and 
tumble  off  into  the  crowd  in  a  species  of  mad  delight. 

Had  the  instrument  been  a  spirit  of  wine,  richly  dark 
red  as  old  port,  and  rendered  alive  by  the  frolicking 
bow,  it  could  not  have  thrown  off  more  merry  snatches 
of  melody's  mirth.  It  chuckled,  it  caught  its  breath, 
like  a  fat  old  monk  at  his  laughing,  it  broke  out  in 
guffaws  of  hilarity,  till  not  a  soul  in  the  audience  could 
keep  his  feet  seemly  beneath  him. 

The  sailors  danced,  boldly,  though  clumsily.  Their 
iaces  beamed  with  innocent  drunkenness,  for  drunk  they 
were,  with  what  seemed  like  the  fumes  and  taste  of 
this  wine  of  sound.  They  had  been  denied  it  so  long 
that  it  went  to  their  heads  at  the  first  draught. 

Across  the  street,  issuing  quietly  and,  he  hoped,  un 
observed,  from  a  door  that  led  into  the  tavern,  a  Puritan 
father  now  appeared,  wiping  his  mouth  as  a  man  has 
no  occasion  for  doing  unless  he  had  recently  dipped  his 
upper  lip  into  a  mug.  He  suddenly  halted,  at  the 
sound  of  music  from  over  the  way.  He  frowned  at  the 
now  somewhat  dense  assemblage  of  boys  and  citizens 
surrounding  Adam  Eust,  and  worked  up  a  mask  of 
severity  on  his  face  from  which  it  had  been  temporarily 
absent.  He  opened  his  mouth,  as  if  to  speak,  and  then, 
realizing  that  he  might  not  be  heard  at  this  distance 
from  them,  moved  a  rod  toward  his  fellow-beings  and 
took  a  stand  in  the  street. 

At  this  moment  an  ominous  snap  resounded  above 
both  the  playing  and  its  accompaniment  of  scuffling  feet 


An  Ungodly  Performance.  39 

and  gruff  explosions  of  enjoyment  and  hearty  apprecia 
tion.  Instantly  Adam  ceased  playing.  He  had  felt  a 
string  writhe  beneath  his  fingers.  The  man  in  the  road 
way  grasped  at  the  moment  instantly,  to  raise  his  voice. 

"Begone,  disperse,  you  vagabonds!"  he  said. 
"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ungodly  performance  ? 
Disperse,  I  say,  you  are  bedeviled  by  this  shameless 
disciple  of  Satan  !  " 

Adam,  intent  on  his  violin,  which  he  found  had  not 
broken  but  had  merely  slipped  a  string,  heard  this 
tirade,  naturally,  as  did  all  the  others.  A  few  boys 
sneaked  immediately  about  the  cluster  of  men  and 
sped  away,  as  if  from  some  terrible  wrath  to  come. 

"Who  is  yon  sufferer  for  melancholy  ?  "  said  Adam, 
looking  carelessly  at  the  would-be  interrupter.  Then 
suddenly  a  gleam  came  into  his  eye,  as  he  recognized  in 
the  man  one  of  the  harsh  hypocrites  who  had  been 
among  the  few  zealots  who  had  imprisoned  him,  years 
before.  "  Halberd,"  he  added,  "fetch  the  gentleman 
forward.  Methinks  he  fain  would  dance  and  make 
merry  among  us." 

His  opening  question  had  been  hailed  with  snorts  of 
amusement ;  his  proposal  ignited  all  the  roguishness  in 
ihe  crowd.  Halberd,  nothing  loth  to  add  his  quota  to 
the  general  fun,  strode  forward  at  once,  way  being  made 
by  the  admiring  throng,  and  he  bowed  profoundly  before 
the  bridling  admonisher  in  the  street.  Then  without 
warning,  he  scampered  nimbly  to  the  rear  of  the  man  of 
severity,  took  him  by  the  collar  and  the  slack  of  his 
knickerbockers  and  hustled  him  precipitately  into  the 
gathering. 

Adam  began  to  play  at  once.    The  spectators  gathered 


4O  Hearts  of  Grace 

about  the  astonished  and  indignant  person  of  severity, 
thirsty  for  fun. 

"  You  evidently  wanted  to  dance,  therefore  by  all 
means  commence/'  said  Adam. 

"  You  are  a  veritable  limb  of  Satan! "  said  the  man. 
"  You  shall  be  reported  for  this  unseemly " 

"  Halberd,"  interrupted  Adam,  "  the  gentleman  is 
as  shy  and  timid  as  your  veriest  girl.  Could  you  not 
persuade  him  to  dance  ? " 

"  I  was  born  for  persuasion,"  said  Halberd.  There 
upon  he  drew  from  his  belt  a  pistol,  most  formidable, 
whether  loaded  or  not,  and  pushed  its  metal  lips  against 
the  neck  of  the  hedged-in  Puritan,  whom  he  continued 
to  restrain  by  the  collar.  "  Make  merry  for  this 
goodly  company  by  doing  a  few  dainty  steps,"  he 
requested. 

The  crowd  pushed  in  closer  and  roared  with  delight. 
Some  one  among  them  knocked  the  reluctant  dancer's 
knees  forward.  He  almost  fell  down. 

"  He's  beginning  ! "  cried  Adam,  and  he  went  for  his 
fiddle  with  the  bow  as  if  he  were  fencing  with  a  dozen 
pirates. 

"  Dance  ! "  commanded  Halberd,  "  dance  !  " 

Terpsichore's  victim  was  not  a  man  of  sand.  Drops 
of  perspiration  oozed  out  on  his  forehead.  A  look  of 
abject  fear  drove  the  mask  of  severity  from  his  face. 
He  jumped  up  and  down  ridiculously,  his  knees  knock 
ing  together  for  his  castanets. 

"Faster  !  "  cried  Adam,  fiddling  like  a  madman. 

"  Faster  ! "  echoed  Halberd,  with  his  pistol-muzzle 
nosing  in  the  dancer's  ribs. 

The  man  jumped  higher,  but  not  faster  ;  he  was  too 


An  Ungodly  Performance.  41 

weakened  by  cowardice.  The  sailors  joined  in.  They 
could  not  keep  their  feet  on  the  ground.  The  con 
tagion  spread.  Pike  and  Halberd  joined  the  hopping. 
The  offending  admonisher  looked  about  at  them  in 
a  frenzy  of  despair,  afraid  of  who  might  be  witnessing 
his  exhibition.  He  was  a  sorry  dancer,  for  he  was  so 
eager  to  please  that  he  flopped  his  arms  deliriously,  as 
if  to  convince  his  beholders  of  his  willingness  to  make 
himself  as  entertaining  as  possible.  When  he  suddenly 
collapsed  and  fell  down,  Adam  ceased  playing.  The 
crowd  settled  on  the  pavement  and  applauded. 

"  For  shame,  good  friend,"  said  Adam,  solemnly, 
"now  that  I  observe  your  garb,  I  am  shocked  and 
amazed  at  your  conduct.  Friends,  let  us  go  to  the  tav 
ern  and  report  this  gentleman's  unseemly  behavior.  In 
payment  for  the  fiddling,  you  may  fetch  my  bales  of 
goods  and  merchandise."  He  waved  to  his  shabby  bag 
gage  and  led  the  way  to  the  Crow  and  Arrow,  which 
had  long  before  disgorged  nearly  all  of  its  company,  and 
its  landlord,  to  add  to  the  audience  in  the  street. 

Flinging  up  his  only  piece  of  gold,  the  young  rover 
ordered  refreshment  for  all  who  crowded  into  the 
tavern,  and  while  they  were  drinking,  he  dragged  the 
beef-eaters,  with  all  the  "  bales  of  merchandise,"  away 
to  the  meager  apartments  provided  above  stairs  in  the 
sorry  hostelry. 

In  the  darkness  of  the  hall,  he  ran  heavily  against 
some  one  who  was  just  on  the  point  of  quitting  a  room. 
The  innocent  person  was  bowled  endways. 

"  Confound  your  impudence  ! "  said  the  voice 
of  a  man.  "Why  don't  you  look  where  you  are 
going  ?  " 


42  Hearts  of  Grace 

"I  couldn't  see  for  fools  in  the  way,"  retorted  Adam. 
"I  am  no  king,  requiring  you  to  fall  before  me." 

"  I  can't  see  your  face,  but  I  can  see  that  you  are  an 
arrant  knave,"  said  the  other  hotly.  "  You  never 
could  have  had  a  proper  drubbing,  or  you  would  be 
less  reckless  of  your  speech  ! " 

"  I  have  always  been  pitted  to  fight  with  bragging 
rascals  of  about  your  size  and  ability  with  a  weapon, 
else  I  might  have  been  drubbed,"  Adam  flung  back, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  sword  as  he  spoke.  ( '  It  shames 
my  steel  to  think  of  engaging  a  ten-pin  ! " 

"  By  all  tokens,  sir,  you  are  blind,  as  well  as  idiotic, 
to  walk  into  death  so  heedlessly.  Be  good  enough  to 
follow  me  into  the  yard." 

"  Oh,  fie  on  a  death  that  flees  and  entreats  me  to 
follow,"  was  Adam's  answer.  "  I  rolled  you  once  in 
this  hall ;  I  can  do  so  again.  Halberd — Pike,  candles 
to  place  at  the  head  and  feet  of  death  ! " 

The  beef-eaters,  having  reached  the  apartments  ap 
pointed  for  their  use,  had  heard  the  disturbance  in  the 
hall,  and  expecting  trouble,  had  already  lighted  the 
candles.  With  three  of  these  they  now  came  forth. 
The  hall  would  have  been  light  enough  had  it  been  in 
communication  with  the  outside  world  and  the  twi 
light,  but  as  it  was,  it  was  nearly  dark. 

"  I  grieve  for  your  mother,"  sneered  the  stranger, 
whose  sword  could  be  heard  backing  out  of  its  scab 
bard.  "  You  must  be  young  to  be  so  spendthrift  of 
your  life." 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  will  find  what  a  miser  I  am, 
even  as  to  the  drops  of  my  blood,"  said  Adam.  "  No 
one  ever  yet  accused  the  Sachem " 


An  Ungodly  Performance.  43 

"  The  Sachem  !  "  interrupted  the  other  voice. 

Halberd,  who  had  sheltered  the  candle  he  bore  with 
his  hand,  now  threw  its  light  on  the  face  of  the  man 
near  by  him. 

"  Shatter  my  hilt  ! "  exclaimed  young  Rust, 
"  Wainsworth  ! " 

"  Odds  walruses  !"  said  the  man  addressed  as 
Wainsworth,  "  what  a  pretty  pair  of  fools  we  are.  By 
gad,  Adam,  to  think  I  wouldn't  know  you  by  your 
voice  ! " 

Adam  had  leaped  forward,  while  his  sword  was 
diving  back  into  its  sheath.  He  caught  Wainsworth 
by  the  hand  and  all  but  wrung  it  off. 

"  Bless  your  old  soul,"  he  said,  (<  why  didn't  you 
say  who  you  were  ?  " 

"  I  was  kept  busy  listening  to  you  telling  me  who 
and  what  I  was,"  Wainsworth  assured  him,  good- 
naturedly.  "  I  never  heard  so  much  truth  in  all  my 
life/' 

"  I  never  thought  to  be  so  incontinently  found  out 
myself,"  Adam  confessed  contritely.  "  But  as  long  as 
I  have  found  you,  I  feel  as  good  as  if  I  had  fought  a 
good  fight  and  wiped  my  blade.  Indeed,  Henry,  I  am 
tremendously  glad  to  see  you.  How  did  you  get  here  ? 
When  did  you  come  ?  What  a  blundering  fool  I  was  ! " 

"  Come  in,  come  in  to  my  castle/' said  Wainsworth, 
turning  back  to  the  apartment  he  had  been  quitting 
when  knocked  over.  "  Bring  in  your  friends.  You 
shall  all  share  in  my  dinner.  I'm  a  ship,  burdened 
with  news  for  cargo  to  be  unloaded.  Come  in  here  ; 
we'll  talk  all  night." 

"  But  I  am  due  at  a  dinner  already,  with  my  beef- 


44  Hearts  of  Grace 

eaters,"  said  Bust.  "  I  have  been  delayed  past  all 
reason  now,  but " 

"  You  weren't  delayed  by  our  duel  of  words,  I 
trust?" 

"  No,  no,  but  I  have  kept  our  host  waiting,  never 
theless.  I  shall  be  back  before  the  night's  worn 
through,  however,  and  then  I  am  yours  till  breath  fails 
me." 

"  Haste  away  then,  Sachem  Bust,  for  the  sooner  you 
are  gone  the  sooner  I  shall  see  you  returned  ;  and  I 
shall  consume  myself  with  impatience  till  I  can  tell 
you  of  the  sweetest  plight  mortal  man  ever  got  himself 
tangled  in.  I've  got  to  tell  you,  for  no  one  else  on 
earth  would  answer.  Begone,  then.  Good-by,  and 
hasten  back." 

Adam  bade  him  au  revoir,  for  he  felt  that  already 
William  Phipps  must  be  thinking  him  sadly  remiss  and 
ungracious. 

Preparations  as  to  evening  dress  were  soon  completed. 
They  consisted  in  a  brisk  wash  of  face  and  hands  for 
the  trio,  not  one  of  the  party  being  endowed  with  a 
second  suit  of  clothing.  Thus  they  were  upon  the 
road,  walking  soberly,  though  diligently,  toward  the 
Captain's  residence,  before  the  twilight  had  begun  to 
fade. 


CHAPTER  III. 
'TWIXT  CUP  AND  LIP. 

WITH  appetites  still  further  whetted  by  their  various 
diversions,  the  comrades  were  hardly  made  happier 
when  Adam  found  that  once  more  the  many  years' 
growth  of  Boston  town  confused  him.  It  was  some 
thing  of  a  walk  to  the  Phipps'  domicile  from  the  Crow 
and  Arrow  the  best  one  could  do.  With  devious  wind 
ings  added,  it  became  the  next  thing  to  provoking. 

"  Aha,  at  last  I  know  where  we  are,"  said  Adam, 
finally.  "  These  streets  are  as  bad  as  London's.  But 
ten  minutes  more  and  we  shall  be  at  the  board." 

"  If  this  is  not  so,"  said  Halberd,  gravely,  with  a 
memory  of  seeing  Adam  part  with  the  last  money 
which  they  possessed,  "  it  would  be  a  kindness  to  let 
us  lie  down  and  perish  here." 

"  This  is  a  most  unlikely-looking  street,"  added 
Pike,  dolefully. 

<f  What  do  you  know  of  Boston  streets  ?  "  inquired 
Adam,  who  had  a  doubt  or  two  of  the  place  himself. 
"  Good  heef-eaters,  if  you  weary,  wait  here  for  a  mo 
ment,  till  I  can  run  a  little  along  this  road,  to  see 
where  it  leads.  If  it  is  right  I  will  presently  whistle  ; 
if  wrong  I  can  the  sooner  return." 

The  beef-eaters  with  one  accord  sat  down  upon  a 

45 


46  Hearts  of  Grace 

block  of  stone,  while  their  leader  strode  hastily  up  a 
passage  which  was  in  reality  an  alley,  at  the  rear  of  a 
number  of  residences.  With  a  hope  that  he  would  soon 
emerge  into  a  street  which  he  thought  should  be  in  the 
neighborhood,  Adam  almost  ran.  Thus  he  disappeared 
about  a  turn  of  the  lane. 

He  had  gone  less  than  twenty  rods  when  he  found 
himself  approaching  a  small  assemblage  of  boys,  who 
were  yelling,  in  suppressed  voices,  and  gathering  stones 
which  they  were  throwing  with  wild  aim  into  a  corner, 
where  the  coming  darkness  had  already  formed  a 
center  of  shadows.  Rust  was  well  among  these  young 
scamps  before  they  were  aware  of  his  presence.  One 
urchin  had  by  this  secured  a  long  stick  with  which  he 
advanced,  the  others  making  room  to  let  him  through, 
to  poke  and  jab  at  something  which  the  lads  had  evi 
dently  driven  to  bay  where  it  could  not  escape.  Yet 
so  afraid  did  the  young  rogues  appear  to  be  that  this 
something  would  yet  fly  upon  them  and  do  them  great 
harm,  that  Adam  walked  at  once  among  them,  touch 
ing  one  upon  the  shoulder. 

"  The  witch  ! "  screamed  this  lad,  as  if  the  devil 
himself  had  clutched  him.  With  yells  of  terror  all 
the  boys  scudded  swiftly  away,  for  a  matter  of  twenty 
feet,  and  then  turned  about  to  look  at  Rust.  Seeing  a 
man  merely,  they  were  reassured.  It  is  a  singular  and 
doubtless  a  fortunate  matter  that  there  was  never  such 
a  thing  conceived  as  a  male  witch. 

"  What  have  you  here  ?"  said  Adam,  pleasantly. 

"  A  witch's  cat ! "  cried  one  of  the  boldest  youths, 
re-approaching.  "  We  drove  it  in  the  corner  to  stone 
it  to  death  !  " 


Twixt  Cup  and  Lip.  47 

Now  Adam  had  a  lingering  fondness  for  cats,  from  a 
time  not  many  years  past. 

"A  witch's  cat  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  What  nonsense  ! 
What  harm  can  a  poor  cat  do  to  big  healthy  boys  like 
you  ?  There  are  no  witches,  you  young  varlets."  He 
went  into  the  corner  and  peered  about  eagerly,  to  find 
the  dumb  victim  of  the  mad  superstition  then  subtly 
growing  in  that  Massachusetts  colony. 

' '  There  was  a  witch  and  she  ran  away,  screaming  !  " 
scolded  back  the  bold  spokesman  of  the  group  of  boys, 
now  gaining  courage  to  edge  nearer.  "She  ran  away 
through  this  garden  ! "  He  pointed  to  a  rear  yard, 
leading  off  the  alley  to  a  house  not  far  distant. 

"  She  made  me  cough  up  pins  and  needles/'  asserted 
another  young  liar,  glibly.  "And  a  monster  black 
monkey  with  cock's  feet  followed  her  when  she  ran." 

"  He's  a  prince  of  the  powers  of  air  himself,"  whis 
pered  another  lad,  in  awe-stricken  tones. 

Adam  had  found  the  cat,  a  middle-aged  animal, 
frightened,  hurt,  soiled,  but  intelligent,  since  it  knew 
it  was  being  protected  at  last.  He  lifted  it  forth  from 
its  small  retreat,  finding  it  to  be  a  heavy,  black-and- 
white  specimen,  too  inoffensive  to  scratch  and  claw, 
even  in  its  terror. 

"  You  young "  he  started  to  say. 

"  Here  she  comes  !  Here  she  comes  !  "  yelled  one  of 
the  lads,  interrupting.  "  Two  of  them  !  Run  for  your 
lives  !  " 

The  self-scared  young  cowards,  screaming  like  so 
many  demons,  darted  down  the  alley  as  fast  as  their 
legs  would  let  them  go.  Adam  looked  where  one  had 
pointed  and  beheld,  indeed,  two  female  figures  coming 


48  Hearts  of  Grace 

on  a  distracted  ran  through  the  near-by  yard,  toward 
him  as  he  was  standing  with  the  cat  in  his  arms. 

Although  the  first  veil  of  darkness  was  already  drawn 
through  the  air,  Rust  could  see  that  they  were  two 
young  women  who  were  coming.  The  one  who  led,  he 
then  noted,  was  a  plain,  but  a  sweet,  wholesome-look 
ing  girl,  who  was  evidently  much  excited.  He  stepped 
forward  toward  her,  with  the  cat,  divining  it  was  the 
animal  she  had  come  for,  and  so  for  the  moment  he 
neglected  to  glance  at  the  second  young  woman. 

When  he  did  look  at  her  she  was  not  far  and  he 
caught  his  breath  quickly.  "  Shatter  my  hilt  !  "  was 
the  thought  that  leaped  into  his  brain,  "  they  do  have 
young  witches  here  after  all  !  " 

Advancing  to  the  middle  of  the  alley  he  made  a  pro 
found  bow,  as  the  foremost  girl  came  pantingly  from 
the  garden  gate.  The  girl,  seeing  him  now  for  the 
first  time,  halted  abruptly. 

"  Good  evening,"  said  Adam,  "  may  I  have  the  honor 
of  restoring  your  pet  ?  He  is  excellently  well  behaved 
and,  I  trust,  not  seriously  hurt." 

The  girl  walked  timidly  toward  him.  Her  face 
flushed  rosy  red  with  pleasure  and  confusion.  Her 
companion,  having  been  caught  on  a  rosebush,  in  the 
garden,  was  delayed  and  was  stooping  to  disentangle  her 
skirt  from  the  thorns. 

"  Oh,  sir,  you  are  very  kind/'  stammered  the  girl 
confronting  Adam.  "  I  thought  they  would  kill  him. 
He  isn't  mine,  but  I  also  hold  him " 

The  second  young  lady  now  came  hastily  out  at  the 
gate.  Adam  had  been  too  polite  to  look  past  number 
one,  in  search  for  the  one  he  thought  so  witching,  but 


'Twixt  Cup  and  Lip.  49 

now  his  heart  bounded  to  see  her  coming.  She  ran 
precipitately  at  him,  breaking  in  upon  her  companion's 
speech. 

"  Oh,  Standing-Panther,"  she  cried,  impetuously, 
"  my  own  dear,  darling  love,  why  did  you  ever  come 
out  to  such  a  place  ?  " 

She  plucked  her  pet  from  Adam's  arm  in  one  swoop. 
Bust,  at  the  old  name,  which  he  had  buried  with 
memories  that  sorely  harrowed  his  soul,  dropped  his 
hat,  which  he  had  doffed,  and  raising  his  hand  to  his 
cheek  in  wonder,  stared  at  the  girl  before  him  with 
widened  eyes. 

"  At — at  your  service,  Miss — Mistress  Gar — Mistress 
Merrill,"  he  stuttered. 

Garde,  a  vision  of  beauty  distraught,  suddenly  looked 
up  in  his  face.  Frank  amazement  was  depicted  in  her 
glorious  eyes. 

"  I  beg — your  pardon,"  stammered  Adam,  "  I  see 
you  were  speaking  to  your  cat,  and  not  to  me." 

"  You  !— Adam  !— Mr.— Mr.  Enst  ! "  she  exclaimed. 
A  red-hot  blush  surged  upward,  flooding  her  face,  her 
neck  and  even  her  delicate  ears.  "  Not  Little-Stand 
ing—Oh  dear  me  !  Why,  Prudence,  what  did  I  say  ? 
It — it  isn't  really "  she  stopped  in  confusion. 

"Adam  Rust,  Kneeling  Panther  at  your  service," 
supplied  the  rover.  He  made  a  bow  that  was  truly 
splendid,  with  a  long  sweep  of  his  hat  and  a  touch  of 
his  knee  on  the  pavement,  that  for  sheer  grace  could 
not  have  been  equaled  in  Boston.  "  Miss — Mistress 
Merrill,  you  have  not  quite  forgotten  that  you  commis 
sioned  me  to  bring  you  something  from  Hispaniola  ?  " 
he  added. 
4 


5o  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  But  you — but  you  have  grown  so,"  said  Garde, 
still  as  red  as  a  rose.  "  And  to  meet  like  this — that 
was  such  a  long  time  ago.  I — I  thank  you  for  saving 
my  cat.  I — we — Prudence,  you  must  thank  Mr.  Rust." 

Prudence,  on  whom  Adam  had  scarcely  looked,  since 
seeing  Garde,  had  been  standing  there  looking  at  Rust 
with  a  sudden-born  love  in  her  eyes  that  was  almost 
adoration.  She  had  developed,  out  of  the  Puritanical 
spirit  of  the  times,  a  control  of  her  various  emotions 
that  Garde  would  never  possess.  Therefore  she  had 
herself  in  hand  at  a  second's  notice. 

"  I  have  thanked  Mr.  Rust,"  she  answered,  quietly. 

Garde  was  stealing  a  look  at  Adam  the  second  he 
turned  in  politeness  to  Prudence. 

"  This  was  no  service  at  all,"  he  said.  "  Pray  expend 
no  further  words  upon  it." 

"  Oh,  Adam,  I  am  so  glad "  burst  from  Garde's 

lips  impetuously,  but  she  checked  her  utterance  the 
instant  his  glance  came  flashing  back  to  hers,  and 
added.  "  I  mean,  Mr.  Rust,  I  am  so  glad  the  cat 
wasn't  hurt,  and,  Prudence,  we  must  surely  return  to 
the  house  at  once." 

This  was  not  at  all  what  Garde  had  started  to  say, 
nor  what  she  wanted  to  say ;  but  though  it  was  the 
same  Adam,  quite  to  her  heart's  satisfaction,  yet  he 
was  now  a  man,  and  a  maidenly  diffidence  shamed  her 
riotous  gladness,  and — Prudence  was  present. 

' '  But,"  said  Adam,  fumbling  in  a  pocket  over  the 
region  of  his  heart,  "  the  trinket  I  brought  you  from 
Hispaniola  ?  " 

"  Oh,  marry,  it  has  kept  so  well  all  these  years,"  said 
Garde  roguishly,  "  surely  it  must  still  keep  till — surely 


Twixt  Cup  and  Lip.  51 

anyway  till  daylight.  Really,  sir,  we  must  thank  you 
again  and  return  before  it  is  actually  dark."  She  gave 
him  one  look  which,  had  he  been  a  woman,  he  would 
readily  have  interpreted,  but  being  a  man,  somewhat 
of  its  significance  was  lost  upon  him. 

"  But  now  I  know  I  have  kept  it  too  long  already," 
he  insisted,  still  tugging  at  the  stubborn  pocket. 
«  Surely " 

"  It  will  be  the  riper  for  keeping  a  little  longer," 
said  Garde,  almost  impatient  with  him  for  not  seeing 
that  she  wanted  to  receive  it  only  when  they  two  were 
alone  together.  "  We  thank  you  once  more,  for  saving 
Little-Standing-Panther,  and  so — good  night." 

"  But  when — what  day  ? — to-morrow  ?  "  cried  the 
eager  rover.  "  When  may  I  give  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  stupid  ! "  said  Garde  to  herself,  almost  vexed  at 
his  lack  of  understanding  and  tact.  Aloud  she  called 
back,  "  Did  you  say  good  night  ?  Prudence,  say  good 
night  again  to  Mr.  Rust." 

Prudence  called  good  night  once  more,  this  making 
her  third  time,  and  Adam  was  left  there  in  the  alley 
alone.  He  went  to  the  gate  and,  leaning  over  it,  clutched 
two  of  its  pickets  in  his  hands,  as  once  before  he  had 
done  to  another  gate,  and  stood  there  gazing  ardently 
into  the  gathering  darkness. 

At  length,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  of  joy  and  impatience 
blended,  he  strode  a  little  down  the  lane.  Then  he 
strode  back.  So,  up  and  down  he  paraded,  for  fifteen 
minutes.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  suddenly  bethought 
him  of  the  beef-eaters  and  the  dinner  at  William  Phipp's. 
He  then  hastened,  tardily  enough,  back  the  way  he  had 
originally  come. 


52  Hearts  of  Grace 

Eager  to  find  his  companions,  yet  completely  scatter 
brained  by  the  meeting  with  Garde,  the  sight  of  her 
radiant  beauty,  and  the  chaos  of  plans  for  seeing  her 
again  at  daylight,  which  were  teeming  in  his  head,  he 
fairly  fell  over  the  outstretched  feet  of  his  faithful  fol 
lowers  before  he  saw  them. 

They  were  still  sitting  upon  the  block  of  stone.  They 
had  interlocked  their  arms,  for  mutual  support,  and 
then  had  fallen  fast  asleep,  worn  out  with  the  long  day 
and  made  weak  by  a  longer  fast. 

"Good  old  beef-eaters,"  said  Adam,  affectionately, 
and  gently  shaking  them  by  the  shoulders,  he  aroused 
them,  got  them  on  their  feet  and  guided  them  out  of 
the  alley.  By  great  good  fortune,  he  came  to  a  land 
mark  he  remembered  from  his  short  sojourn  in  Boston, 
years  before.  With  this  as  a  bearing,  he  made  good 
time  to  the  Captain's  house.  They  met  William  Phipps 
at  the  gate,  going  forth  to  hunt  them  up. 

"  We  have  sauntered  along/'  said  Adam,  carelessly, 
"for  such  air  as  this  is  a  tonic  to  the  appetite." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  OPENING  OF  A  VISTA. 

FOR  a  man  who  had  taken  so  much  tonic,  Adam  had 
but  indifferent  relish  for  the  savory  and  altogether  com 
forting  little  dinner  which  Goodwife  Phipps  had  kept 
all  warm  and  waiting  for  the  coming  of  her  guests.  His 
head  was  filled  with  love  and  with  altercations  between 
hope  that  Garde  had  meant  this  and  fears  that  she 
might  have  meant  that,  and  with  conjuring  up  all  her 
speeches  and  glances,  till  he  could  hardly  have  told 
whether  he  was  afoot  or  horseback. 

But  if  their  leader  neglected  his  opportunities,  the 
beef-eaters  made  good  the  reputation  for  three,  as 
swordsmen  with  knife  and  fork.  Fortunately  Goodwife 
Phipps  had  provided  amply.  But  a  fowl  became  a 
glistening  skeleton  ;  a  hot  meat-pie  was  represented  at 
last  by  a  dish  that  yawned  like  an  empty  chasm ;  a 
pyramid  of  Indian  maize  became  a  scattered  wreckage 
of  cobs,  and  potatoes,  bread  and  pudding  vanished  into 
mere  memories  of  what  they  once  had  been. 

Adam,  although  he  said  nothing,  talked  like  an 
auctioneer,  during  the  meal,  to  divert  what  he  could  of 
the  attention  which  his  retinue  perforce  attracted  to 
their  appetites.  This  innocent  ruse  was  not  lost  on 
the  charming  little  wife  of  William  Phipps.  She  was 
a  sweet  little  woman,  plump,  black-haired,  brown-eyed 

53 


54  Hearts  of  Grace 

and  gifted  by  Nature  with  much  vivacity,  in  her  wit 
and  in  her  engaging  manners.  She  was  older  than  her 
husband,  having  been  the  widow  of  one  merchant  Hull, 
when  she  and  the  Captain  wedded.  They  were  a  happy 
couple,  being  indeed  un-Puritanly  joyous  in  their 
partnership.  She  had  taken  a  great  liking  to  Adam, 
when  Phipps  first  brought  him  home.  Now  that  he 
was  a  man,  she  liked  him  none  the  less,  yet  she  saw 
that  he  would  always  be  a  big,  straightforward  boy.  She 
watched  him  now  with  pleasure,  listening  to  his  quips 
and  sallies  of  nonsense,  and  nodding  motherly  at  his 
evident  concern  for  his  two  forlorn  beef-eaters,  so  ob 
viously  attached  to  him  by  ties  of  affection. 

The  dinner  being  at  length  come  to  an  end,  with 
great  satisfaction  to  all  concerned,  Adam  counseled  the 
expanded  beef-eaters  to  fare  to  the  Crow  and  Arrow, 
lest  in  their  absence  anything  befall  to  prevent  their 
occupancy  of  the  selected  apartments.  As  nothing  was 
to  be  had  to  drink  where  they  were,  the  worthy  two 
were  glad  to  act  upon  his  suggestion.  Accordingly 
Adam  and  his  hosts  were  left  to  themselves,  whereupon 
they  fell  upon  a  banquet  of  narrative  and  reminiscence 
forthwith. 

"  Now,  Adam,  tell  us  all  about  where  you  have  been, 
and  what  you  have  done,  and  all  about  everything," 
said  Mrs.  Phipps,  putting  her  plump  elbows  on  the 
table,  which  she  had  swiftly  cleared  of  the  dinner 
wreckage.  "  Just  begin  at  the  day  you  left,  with  Will 
iam,  and  tell  us  all  there  is.  But  tell  us  first,  have  you 
fallen  in  love  ?  Of  course  you  must  have,  but  I  do 
hope  you  will  like  one  of  our  own  girls  best. " 

"  I  fear  you  would  have  me  begin  at  the  last  end  first, 


The  Opening  of  a  Vista.  55 

after  all,"  said  Adam,  thinking  how  recently  he  had 
fallen  victim  to  Eros.  "  My  tale  is  brief  and  of  no  in 
terest.  William  bade  me  cultivate  the  society  of  gentle 
men,  when  he  sent  me  to  England.  Well,  I  had  fenc 
ing  and  fiddling  of  an  Italian  nobleman  ;  I  have  fought 
with  holy  friars  and  princes  ;  I  have  sworn  strange 
oaths  with  prelates  and  bishops  ;  I  have  danced  with 
nuns  and  duchesses  ;  I  have  ridden  to  hounds  with  curs 
and  Kings.  If  I  have  not  learned  drinking,  gambling, 
love-making,  dueling,  swearing  and  sundry  other  pretty 
accomplishments,  then  beshrew  me  for  a  clod  and  call 
the  court  no  place  for  schooling.  1  am  richer  than  I 
was,  since  I  may  look  up  at  any  moment  and  see  you 
both  at  a  glance.  By  the  same  token  I  am  happier. 
As  to  my  heart,  111  take  oath  I  left  it  in  Boston.  And 
there  you  have  me." 

"  Oh,  this  sounds  very  naughty  indeed,"  said  Mrs. 
Phipps. 

"  I  never  counseled  you  to  apprentice  yourself  to 
the  devil,"  said  Phipps.  "You  were  first  to  learn 
navigation,  of  some " 

"  Oh,  of  that  I  neglected  to  speak,"  interrupted  the 
rover.  "  William,  you  will  never  make  an  anchor  out 
of  sea  foam,  nor  a  solid  ship's  master  out  of  me,  else 
my  first  or  my  last  preceptor  would  have  finished  me 
off  roundly." 

"  Who  was  your  latest  chief  ?"  the  Captain  inquired. 

" Captain  William  Kidd,"  said  Adam,  "a  generous 
friend,  a  fearless  and  skilful  seaman,  and  as  bold  a 
fighting  man  as  ever  clutched  a  hilt.  I  met  him  at 
Barcelona,  shipped  with  him  for  Bristol,  fell  in  with 
my  beef-eaters,  got  rid  of  my  money  and  pushed  my 


56  Hearts  of  Grace 

sword  through  a  pup — Lord  Something-or-other — and 
was  still  in  time  to  catch  Captain  Kidd  at  Portsmouth 
for  New  York.  But  I  can't  bark  enough  for  a  sea-dog, 
as  Kidd  was  good  enough  to  tell  me  himself." 

William  Phipps  nodded  and  nodded.  Outwardly  he 
was  calm  enough  ;  inwardly  he  stewed  with  heat.  Adam 
had  but  added  fuel  to  the  fever  of  unrest  and  thirst  for 
adventure  with  which  he  had  been  born.  He  was  not 
jealous  of  all  that  his  protege  had  accomplished  ahead 
of  himself — indeed,  he  had  furthered  the  lad's  advance 
ment,  at  the  expense  of  his  own  sense  of  bereavement 
when  he  and  Adam  parted, — but  he  was  consumed 
with  impatience  to  be  hewing  at  the  great  career  for 
which  he  had  from  boyhood  felt  himself  destined.  A 
light  of  determination  burned  in  his  eyes.  He  saw 
that  the  boy  before  him  had  utterly  outstripped  him — 
the  boy  to  whom  he  had  imparted  all  his  own  meager, 
self-acquired  education.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he  re 
gret  that  from  Hispaniola  he  had  sent  the  lad  to  Eng 
land,  with  a  fellow-captain,  nor  would  he  for  any  price 
have  stripped  his  protege  of  one  single  experience,  but 
his  mouth  grew  dry  with  the  lust  for  adventure  that 
was  glowing  within  him. 

His  wife  saw  these  indications.  She  understood  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind.  Before  she  had  even  sighed 
to  herself,  as  a  woman  must,  who  feels  herself  on  the 
brink  of  a  separation  from  one  she  truly  loves,  she  con 
sented  mentally  to  what  she  knew  he  would  presently 
suggest.  What  she  was  thus  prepared  for,  came  sooner 
than  she  had  expected  it  might. 

"  Adam,"  said  Phipps,  somewhat  huskily,  "  I  have 
been  waiting  for  something — I  never  knew  what — to 


The  Opening  of  a  Vista.  57 

come  along  and  start  me  off  after  the  fortune  I  have 
promised  to  get  for  the  wife." 

"You  are  fortune  enough  for  me,  dear,"  Mrs. 
Phipps  interposed,  in  spite  of  herself.  "I  should  be 
satisfied  to  live  like  this  forever." 

"I  know,"  said  the  Captain,  "but  I  promised  you 
should  have  a  fair  brick  house  in  the  Green  Lane,  to 
the  north,  and  I  mean  that  you  shall  have  it.  Adam, 
you  are  the  something  I  have  been  waiting  for,  but 
what  with  my  worrying,  over  thinking  you  probably 
dead,  I  have  never  realized  the  truth  till  this  night." 

"  And  what  may  it  be  my  privilege  to  do  ?  "  said 
Adam. 

"  Go  with  me  to  recover  a  fortune,  sunk  in  a  wreck. 
She  rests  on  a  reef  in  the  Bahamas,  in  a  few  fathoms 
of  water.  She  was  laded  with  gold  and  went  down 
with  every  ounce.  I've  got  the  maps,  and  now  that  Fve 
got  you,  bless  your  heart,  we  can  sail  in  a  week  !  " 

"  And  how  have  you  learned  of  this  sunken  treas 
ure  ?  "  said  Adam,  who  for  some  reason  appeared  not 
at  all  boyishly  eager  to  set  off  on  this  new  adventure. 
"  Has  somebody  given  you  this  tale  and  the  maps  as 
the  price  for  a  well-built  brig  ?  " 

"  I  had  the  information  from  a  Spaniard,  who  died 
at  my  ship-yard,"  said  Phipps.  "  He  was  the  sole  sur 
vivor  of  the  wrecked  vessel.  I  gave  him  work.  He  was 
grateful.  Death  seized  him  suddenly,  but  before  the 
end  came,  he  told  me  his  tale,  he  said,  as  a  measure  of 
g-ratitude,  directing  me  to  feel  in  his  pockets  for  the 
maps,  which  I  did.  I  have  waited  for  what  I  now  am 
certain  was  your  return." 

"  Well,"  said  Adam,  thoughtfully,  twisting  the  ends 


58  Hearts  of  Grace 

of  his  small  mustache,  "  you  couldn't  easily  have  paid 
me  a  greater  compliment,  I  am  sure ;  but,  my  dear 
friend,  you  place  me  in  an  awkward  position/' 

"Awkward  position?  What  awkward  position  ?" 
said  Phipps.  "  Here  you  are  a  good  swordsman,  a  man 
of  some  knowledge,  and  the  companion  I  would  select 
of  all  the  men  I  know."  Here  Adam  bowed  solemnly. 
"  Now  what  is  to  hinder  us  from  making  this  venture 
together  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  this  awkward  posi 
tion  business  ?  " 

"I  mean,"  said  the  rover,  "that  I  seem  to  serve  no 
better  purpose,  the  moment  I  return  to  Boston,  than  to 
separate  you  two  good  people.  Now  I  am  sensitive 
about  a  thing  like  that.  I  don't  like  to  be  the  cause  of 
such  a  separation." 

"  What  nonsense,  you "  started  the  Captain. 

"I  prepared  my  mind  for  William's  adventure,  long 
ago,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Phipps.  "  If  he  doesn't  go  with 
you,  he  will  go  with  some  one  else.  And  as  long  as  he 
is  bent  on  going  in  the  end,  I  should  feel  so  much  bet 
ter,  Adam,  if  you  were  with  him." 

Adam  bowed  to  them  both,  again.  He  was  glad  to 
do  this,  as  he  was,  in  point  of  fact,  somewhat  confused 
as  to  what  to  say. 

"  There,  you  young  rascal,"  said  Phipps,  "  that 
knocks  away  your  shores  and  you  are  launched  before 
you  know  it." 

"  But,"  suggested  Adam,  with  an  air  of  great  solici 
tude  for  his  friend's  interests,  "  do  you  really  think  any 
wild-goose  chase  of  this  description  could  be  as  solid 
and  certain  and  wholesome  as  the  ship-building  busi 
ness  ?  Would  I  be  justified  in  encouraging  you,  Cap- 


The  Opening  of  a  Vista.  59 

tain  Phipps,  to  leave  your  established  business  for  such 
a  wild » 

"  Wild  ?  "  interposed  Phipps.  "  You  —  you  —  now 
look  here,  what  do  you  mean — you,  by  your  own 
accounts,  the  wildest  young  scamp  afloat  ?  Wild  ?  As 
if  anything  could  be  too  wild  for  you.  There  is  some 
thing  at  the  bottom  of  all  this.  Now  out  with  it ! " 

"Why,  William!"  said  Goodwife  Phipps,  "where 
are  your  eyes  ?  Why,  Adam  must  have  a  sweetheart  in 
Boston  I " 

Rust  flushed  hotly.  His  eyes  would  not,  for  all  his 
pulling  at  them,  refrain  from  dancing.  He  conjured 
up  an  immediate  fit  of  coughing,  and  therefore  held  a 
handkerchief  before  his  face. 

Phipps  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  "  Is  that  what 
ails  you  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Is  that  why  you  are  so 
hot  to  remain  here  in  Boston  ?  " 

"  Now  I  leave  it  to  you  both,  as  two  good,  sensible 
people,"  said  Rust,  artfully,"  how  could  such  a  catastro 
phe  have  happened  ?  I  left  Boston  seven  years  ago, 
while  a  mere  cub,  and  I  have  been  here  now  less  than 
that  many  hours.  Do  you  think  that  between  sunset 
and  my  coming  here  I  could  have  saved  some  fair 
angel's  life — or  the  life  of  her — her — well,  say  her  pet 
panther  ?  Does  that  seem  likely,  or  reasonable, 
say  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  dare  trust  you  not  to  be  saving  a  dozen/' 
grumbled  Phipps.  "  When  a  man  has  associated  with 
gentlemen,  you  never  can  reckon  on  his  conduct." 

"  Of  course  it  does  seem  absurd,  Adam,  I  admit," 
said  Mrs.  Phipps,  who  was  enjoying  the  conversation 
mightily.  "  I  had  to  make  some  suggestion.  And — 


60  Hearts  of  Grace 

oh,  why,  perhaps  some  young  lady  has  recently  arrived 
here  from  the  old  country.  Is  that  it,  Adam  ?  " 

"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  no  young  lady 
has  come  to  Boston,  since  I  went  abroad,  for  whom  I 
care  a  brass  farthing,"  Adam  assured  his  hostess.  "  The 
further  you  go  in  this,  the  more  innocent  you  will  find 
me." 

"  Then  are  you  turned  lazy,  or  what  is  it  that  ails 
you,"  inquired  the  Captain,  ' '  that  you  fail  to  leap,  as, 
by  my  word,  I  had  thought  you  would,  to  embrace  this 
opportunity  ?  " 

"  Oh,  oh,  poor  dear  Adam,"  said  the  Captain's  wife, 
interrupting  any  answer  Rust  might  have  been  framing, 
"  perhaps  I  know  what  it  is,  at  last."  She  went  to  her 
husband  quickly  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

"  Hum  ! "  said  Phipps,  who  was  inclined  to  be  a  bit 
short  with  his  protege  for  his  many  equivocal  answers, 
"  Why  couldn't  he  say  so  at  once  ?  See  here,  Adam, 
what's  all  this  rigmarole  about  your  pride  ?  If  you 
haven't  got  any  money,  what's  the  odds  to  me  ?  Who's 
asking  you  to  furnish  any  funds  ?  I've  got  the  brig 
and  I've  got  provisions  and  arms  in  plenty.  If  that  is 
what  ails  you,  drop  it,  sir,  drop  it  ! " 

Adam,  willing  to  share  another's  money  as  readily 
as  he  would  give  his  own  last  penny  to  a  friend,  had 
thought  of  nothing  half  so  remote  as  this  to  offer  as  an 
excuse  for  remaining  in  Boston,  under  the  same  sky 
with  Garde.  But  now  that  it  was  broached,  he  fathered 
it  as  quickly  and  affectionately  as  if  he  had  indeed  been 
its  parent. 

"  I  had  hoped  it  would  not  be  unreasonable  for  me  to 
crave  a  few  days'  grace  before  giving  you  my  answer  to 


The  Opening  of  a  Vista.  61 

your  generous  proposition/' he  -said,  "for  I  am  not 
without  hopes  of  replenishing  our  treasury  at  an  early 
date." 

' '  But  in  the  meantime "  started  Phipps. 

"  Dearest/'  interrupted  his  wife,  with  feminine  ten 
derness  of  thought  for  any  innocent  pride,  "surely  yon 
have  no  mind  to  sail  to-night  ?  And  there  are  so  many 
things  for  Adam  to  tell." 

The  Captain,  who  had  been  drawing  down  his  brow, 
in  that  serious  keep-at-it  spirit  which  through  all  his 
life  was  the  backbone  of  his  remarkable,  self-made  suc 
cess,  slacked  off  the  intensity  of  his  mood  and  smiled 
at  his  wife,  indulgently.  He  loved  her  and  he  loved 
Adam  above  anything  else  in  the  world. 

<e  Get  you  behind  me,  golden  treasure,"  he  said,  with 
a  wave  of  his  big,  wholesome  hand.  "  Adam,  I  would 
rather  hear  you  talk  than  to  pocket  rubies." 

"  I  must  be  cautious  lest  I  bankrupt  myself  by  tell 
ing  all  I  know  this  evening,"  said  Adam.  "Indeed, 
dear  friends,  it  grows  late  already.  I  must  set  my  beef 
eaters  the  good  example  of  keeping  seemly  hours."  He 
arose  to  go  before  the  sunken  treasure  topic  should 
again  break  out,  with  its  many  fascinations  and  pit 
falls. 

His  hosts  protested  against  his  leaving,  yet  they 
presently  discovered  that  the  hour  was,  as  he  said,  no 
longer  early.  He  therefore  departed  and  wended  his 
way  through  the  now  deserted  streets,  toward  the  Crow 
and  Arrow,  his  heart  bounding  with  joyousness,  his 
brain  awhirl  with  memories  of  everything  of  the  even 
ing,  save  the  discussion  of  the  sunken  treasure. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  WEIGHTY  CONFIDENCE. 

AT  the  tavern,  when  Adam  entered,  Halberd  had 
succumbed  to  a  plethora- of  comfort,  which  had  followed 
too  soon  on  the  paucity  thereof,  which  had  been  the 
program  of  the  three  for  many  weeks.  He  was  snor 
ing  fiercely  in  a  corner.  Pike,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
inflated  with  life  and  activity  of  speech.  He  was 
bragging  eloquently,  not  only  of  his  own  prowess,  but 
also  of  that  of  Halberd  and  Adam  as  well. 

Adam  heard  the  end  of  a  peroration  of  self-appraise 
ment  in  which  the  doughty  Pike  announced  that  one  of 
his  recent  feats  had  been  the  slaying  of  two  murderous, 
giant  pirates  with  his  naked  fists. 

Among  the  sailors,  dock-hands  and  tavern-loafers 
who  made  up  the  auditors  who  were  being  entertained 
by  these  flights  of  narrative,  was  a  little,  red-nosed, 
white-eyed  man  of  no  significance,  who  now  stood  up 
and  removed  his  coat. 

"  If  you  would  like  to  have  a  bit  of  fun  with  me," 
said  he.  "  I'll  play  one  of  those  pirates,  till  we  see 
what  you  can  do." 

Pike  looked  at  him  ruefully,  rubbing  his  chin  while 
thinking  what  to  answer  to  this  challenge.  He  then 
waved  his  hand,  grandly. 

"Good  sir,"  he  said,  "the  Sachem,  my  honored  as- 
62 


A  Weighty  Confidence.  63 

sociate,  has  such  an  appetite  for  these  encounters  that 
until  he  shall  be  satisfied  I  would  have  no  heart  to  de 
prive  him  of  such  good  material  as  I  can  see  you  would 
make  for  a  fight.  Doubtless  I  can  arrange  for  him  to 
do  you  the  honor  you  seek,  after  which  I  shall  be  pleased 
to  weep  at  your  funeral." 

"I  would  rather  fight  with  him  than  you,"  said  the 
would-be  belligerent,  "  but  before  he  comes,  if  you  would 
like  to  have  your  neck  broken " 

Satisfied  that  this  business  had  gone  far  enough, 
Adam  strode  into  the  tap-room,  where  the  jovial  spirits 
had  congregated. 

"My  friends,"  he  interrupted,  "you  can  put  your 
necks  to  better  purpose  by  pouring  something  down 
them.  Landlord,  attend  my  guests.  Pike " 

But  the  pirate-exterminator  had  fled,  first  edging  to 
the  door,  at  the  appearance  of  his  chief,  and  then 
clattering  up  the  stairs  to  the  rooms  above  with  a  noise 
like  cavalry  in  full  retreat. 

"  But  if  you  would  like  to  fight,"  started  the  accommo 
dating  manikin,  still  in  process  of  baring  his  drum-stick 

arms,  "'why,  Mr.  Sachem "  but  he  was  not  permitted 

to  finish. 

"  Leave  off  the  gab,"  said  a  burly  sailor.  Clapping 
his  private  tankard — a  thing  of  enormous  dimensions — 
fairly  over  the  little  head  of  the  challenger,  he  snuffed 
him  completely  and  suddenly  lifted  him  bodily  to  the 
top  of  the  bar,  amid  the  guffaws  of  the  entire  company. 

Rust  lost  no  time  in  arousing  Halberd,  whom  he 
herded  to  the  apartments  aloft  with  brief  ceremony. 

Wainsworth,  who  had  been  sitting  up  in  his  room, 
writing  letters  while  he  waited  for  Adam's  return,  now 


64  Hearts  of  Grace 

heard  his  friend  coming  and  opened  his  door  to  bid  him 
welcome.  With  another  big  hand-shake,  and  a  smile 
over  their  recent  mis-encounter,  the  two  went  into  the 
lighted  apartment,  Wainsworth  closing  the  door  behind 
him. 

"  It's  a  wonder  you  find  me  anything  more  than  a 
small  heap  of  ashes,"  said  Wainsworth,  "for  I  have 
fairly  burned  and  smoked  with  my  eagerness  to  see  you 
back." 

"  I  can  smell  the  smoke,"  said  Adam.  ' e  How  very 
like  tobacco  it  is.  And  now  that  I  am  here  I  presume 
you  are  quite  put  out." 

"  You  are  not  in  love  or  your  wits  would  be  as  dull 
as  mine,"  his  friend  replied.  "  But  sit  down,  sit  down, 
and  tell  me  all  about  yourself." 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  do  the  telling." 

"  Well,  I  do,  confound  you,  but " 

"What's  all  this?"  interrupted  Adam.  He  had 
caught  sight,  on  the  table,  of  two  glittering  heaps  of 
money,  English  coins,  piled  in  two  apparently  equal 
divisions  on  the  cloth. 

"  That  ?  Oh,  nothing,  your  share  and  mine,"  said 
Wainsworth,  taking  Adam's  hat  and  sweeping  one  of 
the  heaps  into  its  maw  with  utter  unconcern.  **  Stow 
it  away  and  be  seated." 

"Well,  but "  started  Rust. 

"  Stow  it,  stow  it ! "  interrupted  Wainsworth.  "  I 
didn't  bother  you  with  buts  and  whyfores  when  you 
divided  with  me.  I  have  something  of  more  importance 
to  chat  about." 

"  This  is  ten  times  as  much  as  I  gave  to  you,"  ob 
jected  Adam,  doggedly. 


A  Weighty  Confidence.  65 

"  You  gave  me  ten  times  more  than  you  kept  your 
self,  when  it  meant  ten  times  as  great  a  favor.  I  am 
mean  enough  only  to  divide  even,"  answered  Wains- 
worth.  "Say  anything  more  about  it,  and  I  shall  pitch 
iny  share  out  of  the  window." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Rust  had  impoverished  himself 
for  this  friend,  when  in  England,  at  a  moment  most 
vital  in  Wainsworth's  career.  He  had  no  argument, 
therefore,  against  accepting  this  present,  much-needed 
capital.  He  placed  the  clinking  coins  in  his  pocket, 
not  without  a  sense  of  deep  obligation  to  his  friend.  It 
made  one  more  bond  between  them,  cementing  more 
firmly  than  ever  that  affectionate  regard  between  them, 
on  the  strength  of  which  either  would  have  made  a 
great  personal  sacrifice  for  the  other.  No  sooner,  how 
ever,  had  Adam  cleared  his  hat  and  weighted  his 
clothing  with  the  money,  than  he  realized  that  the  only 
good  argument  he  had  possessed  to  oppose  to  Captain 
Phipps'  scheme  to  take  him  away  from  Boston,  namely, 
his  poverty,  was  now  utterly  nullified.  He  started  as  if 
to  speak,  but  it  was  already  too  late.  If  the  Captain 
found  him  out,  what  could  he  say  or  do  ? 

"  Now  then,"  said  Wainsworth,  "  we  can  talk." 

"  I  am  an  empty  urn,  waiting  to  be  filled  with  your 
tales  and  confessions,"  said  Adam. 

Wainsworth  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  stroked  his 
small  imperial,  hung  on  his  under  lip.  "  Yes,  we  can 
talk,"  he  repeated.  He  sat  upright  again,  and  once 
more  leaned  backward.  "I  don't  know  where  to  be 
gin,"  he  admitted. 

"  You  might  start  off  by  saying  you're  in  love." 

"  Who  told  you  I'm  in  love  ?  I  haven't  said  so. 
5 


66  Hearts  of  Grace 

You'd  be  in  love  yourself,  if  ever  you  had  met  her. 
She's  a  beauty,  Adam  !  She's  divine  !  She's  glorious  ! 
Odds  walruses,  you'd  be  clean  crazy  about  her  !  Why, 
you  would  simply  rave — you  couldn't  be  as  calm  as  I  am 
if  you  knew  her,  Adam  !  She's  the  loveliest,  sweetest, 
most  heavenly  angel  that  ever  walked  the  earth  !  Why, 
I  can't  give  you  an  idea  !  She, — she,  she  just  takes 
your  breath  !  There  is  nothing  in  Boston  like  her — 
nothing  in  the  world.  Why,  man,  you  couldn't  sit  still 
if  you  had  ever  seen  her  ! "  He  got  up  and  paced  the 
room  madly.  "  You  could  no  more  sit  there  and  tell 
me  aboufc  her  as  I  am  telling  you  than  you  could  drink 
the  ocean ! " 

"  No,  I  suppose  I  couldn't." 

"  Of  course  you  couldn't.  I'm  an  older  man  than 
you  are — a  whole  year  older — and  I  know  what  I  am 
talking  about.  You  would  go  raving  mad,  if  you  saw 
her.  She  is  the  most  exquisite — Adam  !  She's  peer 
less!" 

"  Then  you  are  in  love  ?  "  said  Adam.  ' '  Up  to  this 
last  moment  I  thought  there  might  be  some  doubts 
about  it,  but  I  begin  to  suspect  perhaps  you  are/' 

"  Love  ?  In  love  ?  My  dear  boy,  you  don't  know 
what  love  is  !  I  adore  her  !  I  worship  her  !  I  would 
lay  down  my  life  for  her  !  I  would  die  ten  thousand 
deaths  for  her,  and  then  say  I  loved  her  still ! " 

"  That  would  be  a  remarkable  post-mortem  power  of 
speech,"  said  Adam.  "  And  I  suppose  she  loves  you 
as  fervently  as  you  love  her." 

"  Of  course  she  does — that  is, — now,  now  why  would 
you  ask  such  a  silly  question  as  that  ?  A  love  like  mine 
just  reaches  forth  and  surrounds  her ;  and  it  couldn't 


A  Weighty  Confidence.  67 

do  that  if  she  didn't — well,  you  know  how  those  things 
are." 

"  Oh,  certainly.  If  she  loves  you  and  you  love  her, 
that  makes  it  complete,  and  as  I  am  a  bit  tired,  and 
this  leaves  no  more  to  be  said " 

"  But  there  is  more  to  be  said  !  Why  don't  you  ask 
me  some  questions  ?  " 

"Silly  questions?" 

"  No  !  Of  course  not !  Some  plain,  common-sense 
questions." 

"Well,  then,  is  she  beautiful  ?" 

"  Odds  walruses,  Adam,  she  is  the  most  beautiful 
girl  that  ever  breathed.  She  surpasses  rubies  and  dia 
monds  and  pearls.  She  eclipses " 

"Ah,  but  is  she  lovely?" 

"  Lovely  ? — She's  a  dream  of  loveliness.  I  wish  you 
could  see  her  !  You  would  throw  stones  at  your  grand 
mother,  if  you  could  see  how  lovely  she  is.  Lovely  ! — 
Can't  you  invent  some  better  word — something  that 
means  more  ?  Lovely  doesn't  express  it.  Go  on,  go 
on,  ask  me  something  more  !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  is  she  pretty  or  plain  ?" 

"  She  is  most  radiantly  beautiful. — Look  here,  Adam, 
you  think  I  am  an  ass." 

"  My  dear  old  fellow,  I  didn't  stop  to  think." 

"  You  are  making  fun  of  me  I " 

"  Impossible,  Henry.  You  told  me  to  ask  you  some 
simple  questions.  Does  she  live  here  in  Boston  ?  " 

"She  does,  of  course  she  does,  or  I  shouldn't  be  here, 
should  I  ?  She  lives  here  and  Boston  has  become  my 
Heaven ! " 

"  Oh,  well,  thanks  for  your  hospitality.     Let's  see, — 


68  Hearts  of  Grace 

is  she  beauti— but  I  may  have  asked  that  before."  He 
yawned  and  rubbed  his  eyes  to  keep  them  open.  "  Oh, 
I  do  think  of  another.  What  is  her  name  ?" 

"Her  name?"  chuckled  Wainsworth,  walking  up 
and  down  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  "  Her  name  is  the 
prettiest  name  in  the  universe.  It's  Garde — Garde 
Merrill — Garde  !  Oh,  you  just  love  to  say  Garde,  Garde, 
Garde ! » 

Adam  started,  suddenly  awake  and  alert.  He  passed 
his  hand  across  his  eyes  stiffly.  His  face  became  as 
pale  as  paper.  Wainsworth  was  still  walking  restlessly 
up  and  down,  intent  on  his  own  emotions. 

"  It's  a  name  like  a  perfume,"  he  went  on.  "  Garde, 
Garde.  You  can't  think  how  that  name  would  cling 
to  a  man's  memory  for  years — how  it  rings  in  a  man's 
brain — how  it  plays  upon  his  soul ! " 

Adam  was  thinking  like  lightning.  Garde ! — She 
loved  Wainsworth — he  had  said  so.  It  was  this  that 
had  made  her  appear  so  restrained,  unnatural,  eager  to 
return  to  the  house.  This  was  why  her  answers  had 
been  so  evasive.  The  whole  situation  broke  in  on  him 
with  a  vividness  that  stunned  his  senses. 

A  mad  thought  chased  through  his  brain.  It  was 
that,  if  he  had  spoken  first,  this  moment  of  insupport 
able  pain  could  have  been  avoided,  but  that  Wainsworth 
having  spoken  first  had  acquired  rights,  which  he,  as 
a  friend,  loving  him  dearly,  would  be  bound  to  respect. 
He  thought  of  the  money  he  had  just  accepted  from 
this  brother-like  friend.  He  saw  the  impossibility  of 
ever  saying  to  Henry  that  he  too  loved  Garde  Merrill — 
had  loved  her  for  seven  years — had  heard  her  name 
pealing  like  the  bell  of  his  own  very  being  in  his  soul ! 


A  Weighty  Confidence.  69 

But  no — he  couldn't  have  spoken  !  He  knew  that.  He 
would  never  dare  to  say  that  she  loved  him,  in  return 
for  the  love  he  had  fostered  for  her,  these  seven  years. 
No,  he  could  not  have  spoken  of  her  like  this  to  any 
soul,  under  any  circumstances.  To  him  her  name  was 
too  precious  to  be  pronounced  above  a  whisper  to  his 
own  beating  heart.  He  did  not  realize  that,  by  that 
very  token  of  her  sacredness  to  him,  he  loved  her  far 
more  deeply,  far  more  sublimely  than  could  any  man 
who  would  say  her  name  over  and  over  and  babble  of 
his  love. 

He  only  knew  that  his  brain  was  reeling.  He  could 
only  see  that  Wainsworth,  for  whom  he  would  have 
sacrificed  almost  anything,  was  all  engrossed  in  this 
love  which  must  mean  so  much.  He  only  realized  that 
all  at  once  he  had  lost  his  right  to  tell  this  dearly  be 
loved  friend  the  truth,  and  with  this  he  had  also  lost 
the  right,  as  an  honorable  comrade,  to  plead  his  own 
soul's  yearning  at  the  door  of  Garde's  heart. 

Wainsworth,  in  his  ecstatic  strolling  and  ringing  of 
praises,  was  tolling  a  knell  for  Adam,  saying  "  Garde  " 
and  then  "  Garde  "  and  again  presently  "  Garde,"  which 
was  the  only  word,  in  all  his  rapid  talk  that  reached 
the  other's  ears. 

Adam  arose,  unsteadily.  Wainsworth  had  not  ob 
served  his  well -concealed  agitation. 

"  I — must  be  going,"  said  Rust,  huskily,  turning  his 
face  away  from  the  light.  He  tried  to  feign  another 
yawn.  "  I  am  no  longer  good  company.  Good  night." 

"What,  going?"  said  Henry,  catching  him  affec 
tionately  by  the  shoulders.  "  Ah,  Adam,  I  suppose  I 
am  a  bit  foolish,  but  forgive  me.  You  don't  know 


70  Hearts  of  Grace 

what  it  is  to  love  as  I  have  learned  to  love.  And,  dear 
friend,  it  has  made  me  love  you  more — if  possible — than 
ever." 

"  Good  night,  Henry,"  said  Adam,  controlling  his 
voice  with  difficulty.  "  Good  night — and  God  bless 
you." 

"Say  'God  bless  Mistress  Garde  Merrill' — for  my 
sake,"  said  Henry. 

Adam  looked  at  him  oddly  and  repeated  the  words 
like  a  mere  machine. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PAN'S  BROTHER  AND  THE  NYMPH. 

ADAM  returned  to  his  room  attempting  to  pucker  his 
lips  for  a  careless  whistle  which  failed  to  materialize. 
He  had  evolved  a  rude  but  logical  philosophy  of  his 
own  for  every  phase  of  life  ;  but  what  philosophy  ever 
fooled  the  maker  thereof,  with  its  sophistries  ? 

The  beef-eaters  were  snoring  so  ominously  that  Adam 
was  constrained  to  -think  of  two  volcanoes  threatening 
immediate  eruptions. 

"  Poor  old  boys  ! "  he  said  to  himself.  There  was  no 
particular  reason  for  this,  save  that  he  felt  he  must 
pity  something,  and  self-pity  he  abhorred.  He  was  try 
ing  not  to  think  of  the  one  companion  that  always 
drew  his  emotions  out  of  his  reluctant  heart  and  gave 
them  expression — his  violin. 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  without  a  light 
in  the  room,  he  reasoned  with  himself.  He  said  to  his 
inner  being  that  doubtless  Wainsworth  loved  her  more 
than  he  did  anyway ;  that  he,  Adam,  having  carried 
away  a  boyish  memory,  which  he  had  haloed  with 
romanticism  for  seven  years,  could  not  call  his  emo 
tions  love.  Moreover,  he  had  as  yet  only  seen  her  in 
the  dark,  and  might  not  be  at  all  attracted  by  her  true 
self  in  the  daylight.  Naturally,  also,  Wainsworth  had 
as  much  right  in  the  premises  as  any  man  on  earth,  and 


72  Hearts  of  Grace 

no  man  could  expect  a  girl  to  remember  a  mere  homely 
lad  for  seven  years  and  know  that  he  loved  her,  or  that 
he  thought  he  did,  and  so  reciprocate  the  affection  and 
calmly  await  his  return.  Clearly  he  was  an  absurd 
creature,  for  he  had  fostered  some  silly  notion  in  his 
heart,  or  brain,  that  Garde  was  feeling  toward  him,  all 
these  years,  as  he  felt  toward  her.  It  was  fortunate  he 
had  found  everything  out  so  soon.  The  thing  to  do 
now  was  to  think  of  something  else. 

All  the  while  he  was  thus  philosophizing,  he  had  a 
perfect  subconsciousness  that  told  him  the  violin  would 
win — that  soon  or  late  it  would  drag  his  feelings  out  of 
him,  in  its  own  incomparable  tones.  He  only  paused 
there  arguing  the  matter  because  he  hated  to  give  in 
without  a  fight.  That  violin  always  won.  It  must 
not  be  permitted  to  arrogate  to  itself  an  absolute 
mastery  over  his  moods. 

Presently,  beginning  to  admit  that  he  would  yet 
have  to  tuck  the  instrument  under  his  chin,  whether  or 
no,  he  worked  out  a  compromise.  He  would  not  play 
it,  or  sound  it,  or  fondle  it  in  the  town.  If  it  wanted 
to  voice  things  and  would  do  it — well,  he  would  carry 
it  out  into  the  woods. 

Feeling  that  he  had,  in  a  measure,  conquered,  Rust 
stole  silently  across  the  apartment  to  the  corner  in 
which  he  had  placed  the  violin  with  his  own  loving 
hands,  lifted  the  case  without  making  a  sound  and 
crept  out  as  if  he  had  been  a  thief,  pressing  the  box 
somewhat  rigidly  against  his  heart. 

He  reached  the  street  without  difficulty.  The  town 
was  asleep.  A  dog  barking,  a  mile  away,  and  then  a 
foolish  cock,  crowing  because  he  had  waked,  were  the 


Pan's  Brother  and  the  Nymph.          73 

only  sounds  breaking  over  all  Boston.  The  last  thin 
rind  of  the  moon  had  just  risen.  In  the  light  it  cast, 
the  houses  and  shadows  seemed  but  a  mystic  painting, 
in  deep  purple,  blacks  and  grays.  Silently  as  Adam 
could  walk,  these  houses  caught  up  the  echo  of  his 
footfalls,  and  whispered  it  on,  from  one  to  another,  as  if 
it  had  been  a  pass-word  to  motionless  sentinels. 

He  came  to  the  Common,  discerning  Beacon  Hill, 
dimly  visible,  off  to  the  right.  With  grass  under  foot 
he  walked  more  rapidly.  Past  the  watch-house  and  the 
powder-house,  in  the  center  of  the  Common,  he  strode, 
on  to  Fox  Hill  and  then  to  the  Eoxbury  Flats,  stretch 
ing  wide  and  far,  to  the  west  of  the  town. 

Being  now  far  from  all  the  houses,  alone  in  an  area 
of  silence,  Adam  modified  his  gait.  He  even  stood 
perfectly  still,  listening,  for  what  he  could  not  have 
heard,  gazing  far  away,  at  scenes  and  forms  that  had 
no  existence.  Night  and  solitude  wrought  upon  him 
to  make  him  again  the  boy  who  had  lived  that  free, 
natural  existence  with  the  Indians.  His  tongue  could 
not  utter,  his  imagination  could  not  conceive,  anything 
concrete  or  tangible  out  of  the  melancholy  ecstasy 
which  the  night  aroused  in  his  being  and  which  seemed 
to  demand  some  outward  response  from  his  spirit.  He 
felt  as  if  inspiration,  to  say  something,  or  to  do  some 
thing,  were  about  to  be  born  in  his  breast,  but  always 
it  eluded  him,  always  it  was  just  beyond  him  and  all 
he  could  do,  as  his  thought  pursued  it,  was  to  dwell 
upon  the  sublimity  breathing  across  the  bosom  of 
Nature  and  so  fairly  into  his  face. 

He  had  come  away  without  his  hat.  Bareheaded,  at 
times  with  his  eyes  closed,  the  better  to  appreciate  the 


74  Hearts  of  Grace 

earth  in  its  slumber,  he  fairly  wantoned  in  the  coolness, 
the  sweetness  and  the  beauty  of  the  hour.  Thus  it 
was  past  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  at  length 
he  came  to  the  woods. 

Man  might  build  a  palace  of  gold  and  brilliants,  or 
Nature  grow  an  edifice  of  leaves  all  resplendent  with 
purples,  reds,  yellows  and  emeralds,  but,  when  night 
spread  her  mantle,  these  gems  of  color  and  radiance 
might  as  well  be  of  ebon.  It  is  the  sun  that  gilds, 
that  burnishes,  that  lays  on  the  tints  of  the  mighty 
canvas ;  and  when  he  goes,  all  color,  all  glitter  and  all 
beauty,  save  of  form,  have  ceased  to  be. 

Adam  saw  the  trees  standing  dark  and  still,  their 
great  black  limbs  outstretched  like  arms,  with  upturned 
hands,  suppliant  for  alms  of  weather.  There  was  some 
thing  brotherly  in  the  trees,  toward  the  Indians,  Adam 
thought,  and  therefore  they  were  his  big  brothers  also. 
He  had  even  seen  the  trees  retreating  backward  to  the 
West,  as  the  Red  men  had  done,  falling  before  the 
march  of  the  great  white  family. 

If  Nature  has  aught  of  awe  in  her  dark  hours,  she 
keeps  it  in  the  woods.  The  silence,  disturbed  by  the 
mystical  murmuring  of  leaves,  the  reaching  forth  of 
the  undergrowth,  to  feel  the  passer-by  in  the  depth  of 
shadows,  the  tangled  roots  that  hold  the  wariest  feet 
until  some  small  animal — like  a  child  of  the  forest — 
can  scamper  away  to  safety,  all  these  things  make  such 
a  place  seem  sentient,  breathing  with  a  life  which  man 
knows  not  of,  but  feels,  when  alone  in  its  midst. 

To  Adam  all  these  things  betokened  welcome.  His 
mood  became  one  of  peculiar  exultation,  almost,  but 
not  quite,  cheer.  As  a  discouraged  child  might  say. 


Pan's  Brother  and  the  Nymph.          75 

"  I  don't  care,  my  mother  loves  me,  anyway,  whether 
anybody  else  does  or  not,"  so  Adam's  spirit  was  feel 
ing,  "  If  there  is  no  one  else  to  love  me,  at  least  I  am 
loved  by  the  trees." 

With  this  little  joy  at  his  heart,  he  penetrated  yet  a  bit 
farther  into  the  absolute  darkness,  and  sitting  down 
upon  a  log,  which  had  given  his  shins  a  hearty  welcome, 
he  removed  his  violin  from  its  case  and  felt  it  over 
with  fond  hands  and  put  its  smooth  cheek  against  his 
own  cheek,  before  he  would  go  on  to  the  further  ecstasy 
which  his  musical  embrace  became  when  he  played  to 
tell  of  his  moods. 

"Now  something  jolly,  my  Mistress,"  he  said  to  the 
instrument,  as  if  he  had  doubts  of  the  violin's  inten 
tions.  "  Don't  be  doleful. " 

Like  a  fencer,  getting  in  a  sharp  attack,  to  surprise 
the  adversary  at  the  outset,  he  jumped  the  bow  on  to 
the  strings  with  a  brisk,  debonair  movement  that 
struck  out  sparks  of  music,  light  and  low  as  if  they 
were  played  for  fairies.  It  was  a  sally  which  soon 
changed  for  something  more  sober.  It  might  have 
seemed  that  the  fencer  found  a  foe  worthy  his  steel  and 
took  a  calmer  method  in  the  sword-play.  Then  a  mo 
ment  later  it  would  have  appeared  that  Adam  was  on 
the  defensive. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  next  to  impossible  for  Eust 
to  play  bright,  lively  snatches  of  melody,  this  night, 
try  as  he  might.  The  long  notes,  with  the  quality  of 
a  wail  in  them,  got  in  between  the  staccato  sparkles. 
When  Adam  thought  of  the  Indians,  their  minor  com 
positions  transmitted  themselves  through  his  fingers 
into  sound,  before  he  was  aware.  He  had  braced  him- 


76  Hearts  of  Grace 

self  stiffly  on  philosophy  all  the  way  to  this  forest- 
theater,  but  to  little  avail.  He  presently  stopped 
playing  altogether. 

"  If  he  loves  her  and  she  loves  him,"  he  told  himself, 
resolutely,  "  why,  then,  it  is  much  better  that  two 
should  be  happy  than  that  all  three  should  finally  be 
made  miserable  by  some  other  arrangement,  which  a 
man  like  me,  in  his  selfishness,  might  hope  to  make. 
It's  a  man's  duty,  under  such  circumstances,  to  dance 
at  the  wedding  and  be  a  jolly  chap,  and — hunt  around 
for  another  girl/' 

He  attacked  the  violin  again,  when  it  was  apparently 
off  guard,  and  rattled  off  a  cheerful  ditty  before  the 
instrument  could  catch  its  breath,  so  to  speak.  Then 
a  single  note  taunted  him  with  a  memory,  and  the 
violin  nearly  sobbed,  for  a  second,  till  the  jig  could 
recover  its  balance.  The  strings  next  caught  at  a  lag 
gard  phrase  and  suddenly  bore  in  a  relentless  contem 
plation  of  the  future  and  its  barren  promise.  The 
brighter  tones  died  away  again.  So  went  the  battle. 

Trying  his  best  to  compel  the  violin  to  laugh  and 
accept  the  situation,  while  the  instrument  strove  to 
sigh,  Adam  played  an  odd  composition  of  alternating 
sadness  and  careless  jollity,  the  outpouring  being  the 
absolute  speech  of  his  soul. 

He  played  on  and  on.  Inasmuch  as  his  philosophy 
was  as  right  as  any  human  reasoning  is  likely  to  be, 
Adam's  more  cheerful  nature  won.  But  the  victory 
was  not  decided,  no  more  than  it  was  permanent.  Yet 
he  was  at  last  the  master  of  the  situation. 

Heedless  of  the  time  as  he  had  been,  in  his  complete 
absorption,  Rust  had  not  observed  the  coming  of  morn- 


Pan's  Brother  and  the  Nymph.          77 

ing.  Nevertheless  the  sun  was  up,  and  between  the 
branches  of  the  trees  it  had  flung  a  topaz  spot  of  color 
at  his  feet — a  largess  of  light  and  warmth.  Without 
thinking  about  it,  or  paying  any  attention  to  it,  Adam 
had  fixed  his  eyes  on  this  patch  of  gold. 

Suddenly  his  senses  became  aware  that  the  spot  had 
been  blotted  out  of  existence.  He  looked  up  and  be 
held  a  vision  of  loveliness — as  fair  a  nymph  as  ever  en 
joyed  a  background  of  trees. 

It  was  Garde. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   MEETING   IN  THE   GREENWOOD. 

WITH  her  glorious  mahogany-colored  hair  loose  in 
masses  on  her  shoulders,  with  her  eyes  inquiring,  and 
her  lips  slightly  parted  as  she  stole  forward,  thrilled 
with  the  exquisite  beauty  of  Adam's  playing,  in  such 
a  temple  of  perfect  harmonies,  Garde  appeared  like  the 
very  spirit  of  the  forest,  drawn  from  sacred  bowers  by 
the  force  of  love  that  vibrated  the  instrument's  strings. 

No  bark  of  pine  tree  was  browner  than  her  eyes  ; 
no  berries  were  redder  than  her  lips,  nor  the  color  that 
climbed  upward  in  her  cheeks,  the  white  of  which  was 
as  that  of  the  fir  beneath  its  outer  covering.  As  some 
forest  dryad,  maidenly  and  diffident,  she  held  her  hand 
above  her  heart  when  Adam  looked  up  and  discovered 
her  presence. 

The  man  leaped  to  his  feet,  like  one  startled  from 
sleep.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  a  dream  had  brought 
him  this  radiant  figure.  No  word  came,  for  a  moment, 
to  his  lips. 

«  Why— it's  you  !  "  said  Garde. 

"Garde! — Miss — Mistress  Merrill!"  said  Adam, 
stammering.  "  By  my  hilt,  I — the — the  wonder  is  'tis 

you." 

"  Not  at  all,"  corrected  Garde,  recovering  something 
that  passed  for  composure.     "  I  come  here  frequently, 
7* 


The  Meeting  in  the  Greenwood.        79 

to  gather  herbs  and  simples  for  Goody  Dune,  but  for 
you  to  be  here,  and  playing — like  that " 

"  Yes,*'  agreed  Adam,  when  he  had  waited  in  vain 
for  her  to  finish,  "  perhaps  it  is  an  intrusion.  You — 
you  came  away  from  the  town  early." 

"  Why  did  you  come  here  to  play  ? "  she  asked. 
Her  own  nature  so  yearned  over  the  forest  and  things 
beautiful,  her  own  emotions  were  so  wrought  upon  by 
the  sublimity  of  earth's  chancels  of  silence,  that  she 
felt  her  soul  longing  for  its  kindred  companion,  who 
must  be  one  reverent,  yet  joyous,  where  Nature  ruled. 
She  wanted  Adam  to  pour  forth  the  tale  of  his  brother 
hood  with  the  trees  and  the  loneliness  of  his  heart,  that 
would  make  him  thus  to  play  in  such  a  place  and  at 
such  a  time.  While  she  looked  at  him,  the  love  she 
had  fostered  from  her  childhood  was  matured  in  one 
glorious  blush  that  welled  upward  from  her  bosom  to 
her  very  eyes  themselves. 

Adam  had  looked  at  her  but  once.  It  was  a  long 
look,  somewhat  sad,  as  of  one  parting  with  a  dear  com 
panion.  In  that  moment  he  had  known  how  wholly 
and  absolutely  he  loved  her.  His  pretended  doubts 
of  the  night  before  had  fled  as  with  the  darkness. 
The  daylight  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  face  had  made  him 
henceforth  a  sun-worshiper,  since  the  sun  revealed  her 
in  such  purity  of  beauty. 

In  the  great  delight  which  had  bounded  in  his  breast 
at  seeing  her  there,  he  had  momentarily  forgotten  his 
conversation  with  Wainsworth.  When  she  asked  him 
why  he  had  come  to  the  woods,  he  would  fain  have 
knelt  before  her,  to  speak  of  his  love,  to  tell  of  his  an 
guish  and  to  plead  his  cause,  by  every  leap  of  his  heart, 


80  Hearts  of  Grace 

but  he  had  remembered  his  friend  and  his  old  Indian 
schooling  in  stoicism  gathered  upon  him,  doubtless  for 
the  very  presence  of  the  firs  and  pines,  so  solemn  and 
Indianesque  about  him.  He  put  on  a  mask  he  had 
worn  over  melancholy  often. 

"  AVhy,  I  came  here  for  practise,  of  which  I  am  sadly 
in  need/'  he  said.  "  When  once  I  played  before  King 
Pirate  and  his  court  of  buccaneers,  I  was  like  to  be 
hung  for  failing,  after  a  mere  six  hou  rs  of  steady  scrap 
ing  at  the  strings.  If  you  came  for  simples,  verily  you 
have  found  a  simple  performer  and  simple  tunes." 

Garde  was  painfully  disappointed  in  him.  His  flip 
pancy  had,  as  he  intended  it  should,  deceived  her. 
She  shut  that  little  door  of  her  heart  through  which 
her  soul  had  been  about  to  emerge,  ready  to  reveal 
itself  to  and  to  speak  welcome  to  its  mate.  She  did  not 
cease  to  love  him,  emotional  though  she  was,  for  love 
is  like  a  tincture,  or  an  attar, — once  it  is  poured  out, 
not  even  an  ocean  of  water  can  so  dilute  it  as  to  leave 
no  trace  of  its  fragrance,  and  not  until  the  last  drop 
in  the  ocean  is  drained  can  it  all  be  removed  or  des 
troyed.  No,  she  was  pained.  She  desired  to  retreat, 
to  take  back  the  overture  which,  to  her  mind,  had  been 
a  species  of  abandon  of  her  safeguards  and  so  patent 
that  she  could  not  conceive  that  Adam  had  failed  to 
note  its  significance.  Yet  she  gave  him  up  for  a  soul 
less  Pan  reluctantly.  That  playing,  which  had  drawn 
her,  psychically,  physically,  irresistibly  to  his  side, 
could  have  no  part  with  things  flippant.  It  had  been 
to  her  like  a  heart-cry,  which  it  seemed  that  her  heart 
alone  could  answer.  And  when  she  had  found  that  it 
was  Adam  playing — her  Adam — she  had  with  difficulty 


The  Meeting  in  the  Greenwood.        81 

restrained  herself  from  running  to  him  and  sobhing 
out  the  ecstasy  suddenly  awakened  within  her.  The 
memory  of  the  music  he  had  made  was  still  upon  her 
and  she  was  timidly  hopeful  again  when  she  said  : 

"  How  long  have  you  been  practising  here  ?  " 

Adam  mistook  this  for  a  little  barb  of  sarcasm.  His 
mind  was  morbid  on  the  subject  of  Wainsworth  and  of 
Garde's  evasiveness  of  the  evening  before.  He  put  on 
more  of  the  motley. 

"Not  half  long  enough,"  he  said,  "by  the  violence 
I  still  do  to  melody  ;  and  yet  too  long  by  half,  since  1 
have  frightened  the  birds  from  the  forest.  There  is 
always  too  much  of  bad  playing,  but  it  takes  much  bad 
practising  to  make  a  good  performer.  I  am  better  at 
playing  a  jig.  Shall  I  try,  in  your  honor  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  if  you  please,  no,  I  would  rather  you 
would  not,"  said  Garde.  It  was  her  first  Puritanical 
touch.  If  she  had  given  him  permission  to  play  his  jig, 
very  many  things  might  have  been  altered,  for  Adam 
would  have  revealed  himself  and  would  have  opened  her 
heart-doors  once  again,  such  a  mastery  over  everything 
debonair  in  his  nature  would  the  violin  have  assumed, 
with  its  spell  of  deeper  emotions,  inevitable — with 
Garde  so  near. 

Adam  laughed,  well  enough  to  appear  careless.  "  I 
commend  your  judgment,"  he  said,  "  though  I  have 
always  thought,  even  after  last  night, — ah,  by  the  way, 
where  is  your  companion,  Mistress  Prudence  some 
body?" 

He  had  parried  his  own  tendency  to  get  back  to  the 
tender  subjects  and  memories  flooding  his  heart,  but 
not  in  a  manner  to  gladden  Garde.  Indeed,  the  ring  of 


82  Hearts  of  Grace 

artificiality  in  everything  he  said  made  her  less  and  less 
happy. 

"  Her  name  is  Prudence  Soam.  She  is  my  cousin, 
and  she  is  at  home,"  said  Garde,  quietly.  "  If  you 
would  care  to  see  her  again,  I  will  tell  her  of  your  wish." 
She  could  readily  understand  how  any  one  might  like 
Prudence,  knowing  what  a  sweet,  good  girl  her  cousin 
was,  but  it  caused  her  an  acute  pain  to  think  she  had 
cherished  the  image  of  Adam  in  her  heart  for  seven 
years,  only  to  find  now  that  he  had  been  inconstant. 

She  suddenly  thought  of  the  meeting  of  the  evening 
before.  Adam's  willingness  to  present  her — in  the  pres 
ence  of  Prudence — with  that  something  which  he  had 
brought  her  from  his  first  trip  to  Hispaniola,  appeared 
to  her  now  in  a  light,  not  of  his  stupidity,  but  of  his 
deliberate  intention  to  show  her  that  he  had  not  pre 
served  a  sacred  dream  of  their  childhood  friendship,  as 
she  had  so  fondly  hoped  he  had.  She  even  wondered 
if  he  might  not  have  seen,  known  and  cared  for  Prudence 
before.  She  concluded  that  he  cared  for  Prudence  now, 
and  certainly  not  for  herself.  Then  she  thought  he 
might  think  of  that  something,  which  he  had  wished 
so  to  give  her — that  something  from  Hispaniola, — and 
she  feared  he  might  present  it  to  her  now.  This  would 
have  been  too  much  to  bear,  under  the  circumstances. 

Adam  was  indeed  thinking  on  this  very  subject,  but 
Wainsworth — his  friend — arose  like  a  specter  in  his 
meditations,  and  all  that  Garde  had  said  had  confirmed 
him  in  his  belief  of  her  coldness  to  himself,  so  that  he 
preferred  to  seem  to  forget  the  trinket,  which  would 
have  been  at  once  the  token  of  his  love  and  constancy. 

"  Mistress  Prudence  Soam,"  Adam  repeated,  replying 


The  Meeting  in  the  Greenwood.        83 

to  Garde's  last  remarks.  "  Indeed  I  should  be  but  a 
sorry  clod,  not  to  wish  to  see  her  again.  Does  she  also 
come  searching  for  simples  ?  " 

"No,"  replied  Garde,  a  little  dully.  "  But  I  thank 
you  for  reminding  me  that  I  must  set  about  my  task. 
Therefore  I  must  bid  you  good  day." 

Adam  thought  something  would  snap  inside  his  breast. 
There  was  the  sunlight,  streaming  through  the  aisles 
of  the  trees  ;  there  was  Garde,  whom  he  loved  beyond 
anything  of  earth,  setting  off  alone  when  he  should  be 
at  her  side,  culling  her  herbs,  touching  her  hands  as 
he  gave  her  the  aromatic  leaves  that  he  too  knew  so  well, 
and  looking  into  Paradise  through  her  eyes,  that  had 
so  danced  when  first  he  knew  them.  But  what  of 
Wainsworth  ?  What  of  the  honor  of  a  friend  to  a 
friend  ? 

"  Good  day,"  he  echoed,  with  a  mock  gaiety  that 
struck  painfully  on  the  ears  of  both.  "  I  trust  your 
quest  will  be  as  successful  as  I  could  wish  your  life  to 
be  happy." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  for  it  was  hard  to  part  thus. 
Garde  had  hoped  he  might  volunteer  to  go  along  and 
carry  the  tiny  basket  she  held  on  her  arm,  for  a  woman's 
love  can  never  be  so  discouraged  as  not  to  have  a  new 
little  hope  every  other  moment  that  something  may 
happen  to  set  matters  aright  in  spite  of  all.  But  Adam 
did  not  dare  to  prolong  this  test  of  his  honor  to  Wains- 
worth.  He  felt  that  his  head  was  reeling,  but  with  a 
stately  bow  he  took  a  final,  lingering  look  at  the  sweetest 
vision  he  had  ever  seen,  and  started  away. 

Garde,  steadied  by  her  pride,  returned  his  bow  and 
walked  further  into  the  woods. 


84  Hearts  of  Grace 

Adam  felt  that  he  must  pause  and  turn  ;  that  the 
"  Garde  !  "  that  welled  up  from  his  heart  would  burst 
through  his  lips  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do.  With  his 
violin  clasped  heneath  his  arm,  however,  he  conquered 
himself,  absolutely,  and  never  so  much  as  turned  about 
again  to  see  where  the  wood-nymph  had  gone. 

But  Garde  could  not  so  slay  her  dearest  impulse. 
She  turned  before  she  had  gone  ten  steps.  Looking 
back,  she  saw  Adam,  bareheaded,  crowned  by  his  golden 
ringlets, — through  which  the  sunbeams  were  thrust 
like  fingers  of  gilt, — trailing  his  sword,  clutching  his 
violin,  striding  off  in  his  boots  as  lithely  as  a  panther 
and  bearing  up  under  his  faded  brown  coat  as  proudly 
as  a  king. 

"  Oh,  Adam  !  "  she  said,  faintly,  but  he  was  already 
too  far  away  to  hear  the  little  wood -note  which  her 
voice  had  made. 

He  disappeared.  She  knew  he  would  soon  be  clear 
of  the  trees.  Reluctantly  at  first,  and  then  eagerly, 
tbough  silently,  she  flitted  along  from  tree  to  tree, 
where  he  had  gone,  till  at  length  she  came  to  the  edge 
of  the  forest. 

Adam,  heavy  with  Wainsworth's  gold,  was  walking 
less  buoyantly  now.  He  was  far  out  on  the  flat,  head 
ing  southward,  not  exactly  toward  Boston.  Garde 
watched  him  yearningly,  going,  going  and  never  once 
looking  backward  to  where  he  had  left  her. 

She  could  bear  no  more.  She  sank  down  on  the 
moss  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and  leaning  against  the 
gnarled  old  trunk,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  cried,  heart-brokenly. 

Had  she  watched   but  a  moment  longer,  she  would 


The  Meeting  in  the  Greenwood.        85 

have  seen  Adam  halt,  slowly  turn  about,  and  with  his 
hand  at  his  lips  gaze  toward  the  woods  steadily  for 
fully  a  minute.  Then  with  a  slow  gesture  he  waved  a 
kiss  back  to  where  she  was  and  once  more  went  upon 
his  way. 

The  man  had  no  mind  to  walk  through  Boston  in 
daylight,  with  his  violin  naked  in  his  hands.  Keeping 
therefore  southward,  he  came  at  length  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  harbor.  Here  he  engaged  a  boatman  with 
a  sloop  to  convey  him  down  to  the  ship-yard  of  Captain 
William  Phipps. 

The  worthy  ship-builder  soon  made  him  welcome. 

"William,"  said  Adam,  "I  have  replenished  the 
treasury,  as  I  said  I  might,  and  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  join  you  in  your  treasure-hunting  expedition." 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

PAYING   THE   FIDDLER. 

ASSUME  a  cheerfulness,  if  you  have  it  not,  and  it 
may  presently  grow  upon  you.  This  happened  to  Adam, 
so  that  when  he  left  Captain  Phipps,  to  return  to  the 
tavern  for  his  breakfast  and  to  seek  out  the  beef-eaters, 
his  mood  was  almost  volatile  again.  There  is  much 
virtue  in  having  something  other  than  one's  troubles 
to  think  upon.  The  sunken  treasure  afforded  Adam  a 
topic. 

He  made  his  way  to  his  apartments  in  the  Crow  and 
Arrow  by  the  stairs  at  the  rear.  He  found  the  rooms 
empty.  Beef-eaters,  bag  and  baggage  were  gone.  Even 
the  violin-case  was  not  to  be  found. 

Somewhat  surprised  that  his  faithful  followers  would 
so  desert  him,  or  at  least  move  the  family  habitation 
without  consulting  their  comrade,  and  on  notice  so 
brief,  Rust  knocked  on  Wainsworth's  door,  to  ask 
him  if  he  had  seen  anything  of  the  worthy  Pike  and 
Halberd.  But  Wainsworth  too  was  out. 

Upon  proceeding  post  haste  down  to  the  tap-room, 
Adam  broke  in  upon  a  scene  of  armistice,  after  a  first 
shock  of  war.  Standing  at  bay,  with  drawn  swords, 
the  shabby  chattels  of  the  trio  in  a  corner  behind  them, 
were  the  beef -eaters,  confronting  and  defying  the  land 
lord  and  several  valiant  citizens,  in  the  midst  of  whom 
86 


Paying  the  Fiddler.  87 

was  the  small  individual  who  had  so  much  desired  to 
fight,  on  the  previous  evening,  and  who  was  now 
haranguing  the  opposing  forces  volubly. 

"  Here  comes  the  master-vagabond  now  I"  he  cried, 
the  moment  Adam  appeared  in  the  room.  "Now, 
sirs,  for  your  proof  that  you  are  not  a  pack  of  wander 
ing  beggars  and  braggarts  ! " 

"At  last !  "  cried  Halberd  and  Pike,  together,  coming 
quickly  forward  to  grasp  their  comrade  in  arms  by  the 
hands. 

"We  have  defended  your  good  name  and  posses 
sions  ! "  said  Pike. 

"We  have  flung  the  lie  into  the  teeth  of  these 
varlets  !  "  added  Halberd.  "  You  have  come  in  good 
time." 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  business  ? "  de 
manded  Adam,  of  the  assembled  company. 

Every  one  started  to  talk  or  to  shout  at  once.  Adam 
heard  such  things  as  : 

"  They  have  called  you  and  us  a  lot  of  penniless 
beggars  and  pirates  ! " 

"  What  are  you  but  a  swaggering  bully  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  fiddling  limb  of  Satan  ! " 

The  landlord  said,  more  moderately,  "I  did  but 
desire  to  protect  my  house  in  its  good  repute." 

The  fierce  little  white-eyed  man  waved  both  his  fists. 

"  These  dogs,"  he  snapped  to  Adam,  "have  boasted 
that  you  are  loaded  down  with  gold  ! " 

"Yes,  they  mentioned  gold,"  said  the  landlord, 
tentatively. 

"Gold  ?"  said  Adam.  "Is  it  a  crime  to  have  no 
gold  ?  How  much  gold  would  you  see  ? "  he  pulled 


88  Hearts  of  Grace 

his  two  hands  from  his  pockets  and  scattered  heaps  of 
yellow  sovereigns  on  the  table. 

The  beef-eaters  nearly  collapsed  with  amazement,  at 
the  sight  of  this  wealth.  The  landlord  fell  to  rubbing 
his  hands  with  ecstasy. 

"  Yon  unseemly  traducers  of  fair  gentlemen/'  he 
said,  with  virtuous  indignation,  to  the  belligerents 
behind  him,  "  how  dare  you  come  here  to  insult  and 
to  villify  my  guests  ?  " 

"  He  probably  stole  it,"  cried  the  incorrigible  little 
white-eyed  terrier.  "He  has  naught  to  do  but  to 
make  God-fearing  men — and  his  betters,  at  that — dance 
against  their  will  in  the  public  streets  !  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Adam,  striding  forward  and  purposely 
bending  with  great  show  of  looking  down  to  where  the 
little  man  was  standing,  "  so  you  have  come  to  pay  the 
fiddler  for  the  sport  which  your  friend  enjoyed  yester 
day  evening  ?  How  little  he  reckons  my  fiddling 
worth.  This  is  so  sad  that  nothing  short  of  a  break 
fast  can  console  me.  Landlord " 

"  Braggart !  knave  !  "  cried  the  little  man,  inter 
rupting.  "  I  offer  to  fight  you  again  !  You  dare  not 
fight!" 

The  smaller  the  dog  the  rarer  the  punishments  and 
the  larger  the  arrogance. 

"  Shatter  my  hilt !"  said  Adam,  "you  and  another 
gnat  would  devour  me  whole." 

Without  warning,  and  yet  gently,  Rust  took  him  by 
the  collar,  twirled  him  about  so  that  he  could  lay  his 
other  hand  on  the  trousers  of  the  midget,  and  hoisting 
him  off  his  feet,  though  he  kicked  and  made  a  disturb 
ance  with  yelling  and  raving,  carried  him  at  once  to 


Paying  the  Fiddler.  89 

the  open  window  of  the  tavern  and  dropped  him  out, 
on  the  sidewalk  beneath. 

Three  or  four  partisans,  who  had  backed  up  little 
white-eyes  and  the  landlord,  now  edged  toward  the 
door.  Adam  made  one  motion  in  their  direction  and 
they  got  out  with  becoming  alacrity. 

"  Lock  that  door  till  we  have  had  our  breakfast/'  Eust 
commanded. 

The  landlord  had  no  more  than  complied,  than  the 
little  rat,  dropped  from  the  window,  came  banging 
against  the  barrier  on  the  outside,  demanding  admit 
tance  vociferously. 

"  Who  is  yon  whiffet  ?  "  Adam  asked. 

"  His  name  is  Psalms  Higgler,"  laughed  the  landlord, 
with  fine  hypocrisy.  "How  bravely  you  served  him, 
and  rightly  too."  He  rubbed  his  hands  gleefully. 

"  And  his  friend  who  sent  him  hither,  he  that  danced 
so  divertiugly,  what  may  be  his  name  ?" 

"  Isaiah  Pinchbecker,  you  doubtless  mean.  And 
what  will  you  have  for  breakfast,  sire?" 

"  I  will  have  you  carry  my  bales  of  merchandise  back 
to  my  apartments,"  said  Adam,  who  did  not  propose  to 
move  out  of  the  house  until  he  felt  inclined,  preferring 
to  remain  there  and  command  respect  for  himself  and 
the  beef-eaters,  even  while  he  knew  that  the  landlord 
had  joined  the  miserable  snappers  at  his  heels.  e(  And 
look  to  it  you  move  smartly  and  return  to  order  some 
thing  to  eat." 

The  landlord,  spurred  by  the  sight  of  the  gold,  and 
eager  to  make  all  possible  amends  for  the  errors  of 
judgment  he  had  committed,  staggered  up  the  stairs, 
panting  like  a  grampus. 


90  Hearts  of  Grace 

Adam  now  turned  to  his  comrades,  who  recited  three 
times  over  the  incidents  of  the  morning,  which  con 
sisted  chiefly  of  the  charges  made  by  Psalms  Higgler, 
evidently  at  the  instigation  of  Pinchbecker — the  nimble- 
footed — and  which  had  so  nearly  culminated  in  their 
expulsion  from  the  tavern. 

Tempest  in  a  teapot  as  it  had  been,  the  business  was 
an  indication  of  feelings  which  went  as  deep  as  politics, 
in  which  the  whole  colony  had  been  simmering  for 
years.  Moreover,  the  incident  was  not  yet  concluded. 

The  same  year  which  had  witnessed  King  Philip's 
war,  at  the  close  of  which  Adam  had  gone  away,  one  of 
the  greatest  mischief-makers  with  whom  the  Colonists 
had  ever  been  called  upon  to  deal,  Edward  Kandolph, 
had  come  to  Boston  with  a  design  to  despoil  the  colony 
of  its  charter.  He  had  worked  openly,  in  some  direc 
tions,  secretly  in  others.  He  had  enlisted  malcontents, 
dissenters-from-everything,  hypocrites  and  men  with 
private  greeds,  in  his  Tory  following.  Among  these 
were  Pinchbecker,  his  friend,  the  landlord  of  the  Crow 
and  Arrow,  Psalms  Higgler  and  many  others  of  their 
ilk. 

Now  Pinchbecker  came  under  the  category  of  hypo 
crites.  He  assumed  the  Puritans'  manners,  speech  and 
customs,  and  did,  in  fact,  despise  some  of  the  looser 
habits  of  the  Koyalists,  though  he  was  their  willing 
tool,  working  for  future  favor  and  gain.  He  had  there 
fore  felt  himself  sorely  aggrieved  when  compelled  to 
his  dance,  in  a  public  highway,  and  having  first  egged 
on  his  little  terrier,  Psalms,  had  then  repaired  to 
Edward  Eandolph,  himself,  for  redress  of  his  wrongs. 

Randolph,  thinking  he  smelt  a  bluff  and  ready  Tory 


Paying  the  Fiddler.  91 

lot,  in  Adam,  and  his  company,  found  occasion  to  visit 
the  tavern  without  delay.  He  arrived  while  Rust  and 
the  beef -eaters  were  still  at  their  breakfast.  He  entered 
the  house  at  the  rear  and  ordered  a  drink  at  the  bar. 

Motioning  the  landlord  to  silence,  that  worthy  being 
much  astonished  to  see  him  so  early,  Randolph  pres 
ently  turned  about,  as  if  he  had  not  before  observed  the 
trio  at  table. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  drink  ill  when  I  drink 
alone ;  will  you  not  permit  me  to  order  something  in 
which  you  can  join  me  ?  " 

Adam  looked  up.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said,  •"  it  is  our 
misfortune  to  have  ordered,  just  as  you  were  coming  in." 

"  The  misfortune  is  mine,"  insisted  Randolph.  He 
drank  alone. 

Rust  had  taken  in  the  visitor's  details  at  a  glance. 
The  man  was  of  medium  size  and  nervous  temperament. 
He  had  a  great  brow,  heavy  with  perceptive  faculties, 
at  the  expense  of  those  of  reflection.  His  eyes  were 
deep-set,  round,  intense  and  close  together,  the  nose 
that  divided  them  being  as  thin  and  curved  as  a  beak. 
His  lips  were  thin  and  tight-shutting.  He  looked  like 
a  human  bird-of-prey. 

"  By  your  dress  and  manner  you  are  recently  from 
England,"  said  the  man,  sauntering  leisurely  toward 
Adam,  when  he  had  smacked  his  lips  and  set  down  his 
mug. 

"  By  your  courtesy,"  said  Adam,  "  you  are  a  student, 
curious  to  know  your  fellow-beings." 

Randolph  laughed.  "  Curious  ?  "  said  he.  "  You 
do  me  wrong.  I  care  neither  who  nor  what  a  gentleman 
is,  so  long  as  he  is  witty  and  blest  with  humor.  Your 


92  Hearts  of  Grace 

repute  and  the  tale  of  your  love  for  dancing  have  pre 
ceded  you,  sir.  I  confess  I  was  tempted  to  come  here 
and  see  you." 

"  I  beseech  you  for  an  opportunity  to  say  that  I  was 
merely  charitable,"  said  Rust.  "  I  ordered  the  dance 
to  amuse  my  beef-eaters.  Perhaps  you  are  a  dancer 
yourself  ?  " 

Randolph  bit  his  lip.  He  was  not  getting  on  to  his 
liking.  He  smiled,  however,  and  said  : 

"  I  have  few  graces,  after  I  have  mentioned  a  sense 
of  admiration " 

"  And  blandishment,"  put  in  Adam,  who  frankly  dis 
liked  the  man. 

"  Say  appreciation,  rather,"  corrected  Randolph.  "  I 
have  had  a  hearty  laugh  over  that  dance.  I  wish  I  had 
been  there  to  see  it ;  such  merriment  is  so  rare  in 
Massachusetts." 

"  Nearly  as  rare  as  introductions  between  gentle 
men,"  Adam  answered. 

He  tipped  up  his  mug  and  drank  the  last  of  his  brew 
carelessly.  Randolph  turned  red  with  anger.  His  gray 
eyes  looked  like  cold  fire,  yet  he  was  still  unwilling  to 
accept  defeat  in  his  effort  to  find  out  the  bent  of  Adam's 
political  views. 

"  We  live  in  a  time  when  the  stoutest  friends  and 
companions  in  good  causes  might  be  lost  to  each  other 
by  formality,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  doing  its  best  to 
bend  his  features.  "  I  must  beg  your  pardon,  if  I 
seem " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance,  at  this  moment, 
of  William  Phipps,  who  came  in  at  the  door  which  the 
landlord  had  quietly  unbolted. 


Paying  the  Fiddler.  93 

"  What,  Adam,  not  yet  done  with  eating  ?  "  he  called 
out,  bluntly.  "  Come,  come,  I  have  been  waiting  this 
long  time  for  you  and  your  friends  to  have  a  look  over 
the  brig." 

"  With  you  at  once,"  rejoined  the  rover. 

He  and  the  beef-eaters  knocked  over  their  heavy 
chairs  and  stools,  as  they  arose  from  the  table.  Phipps 
looked  at  Randolph.  The  two  men  nodded,  distantly 
and  somewhat  frowningly.  Without  so  much  as  glanc 
ing  at  Randolph,  Adam  and  his  retinue  walked  to  the 
door  and  so  away,  with  the  Captain. 

Randolph  needed  no  further  intimation  of  Adam's 
probable  leanings,  politically,  than  this  obvious  cama 
raderie  with  Phipps — who  was  a  patriot  as  immovable 
and  staunch  as  a  rock  fortress.  He  clenched  his  fists 
and  ground  his  molars  savagely. 

"  Curse  the  young  fool  !  "  he  said.  "Ill  make  him 
wish  for  a  civil  tongue  to  be  hung  in  his  head  ! " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   MATTER   OF   STATE. 

MISTRESS  GARDE  MERRILL,  having  several  hours  be 
fore  delivered  her  simples  and  aromatic  leaves  to  old 
Goody  Dane,  just  outside  the  limits  of.  the  town,  stood 
looking  out  of  the  window,  at  her  Uncle  John  Soam's 
home,  where  she  was  visiting.  Thus  it  was  that  she  saw 
her  grandfather,  David  Donner  enter  the  gate.  Two 
minutes  afterward  she  beheld  the  unusual  sight  of  three 
Governors  come  into  the  garden  together. 

The  first  was  ex-Governor  Leverett,  that  stern  old 
Roundhead,  the  ex- Captain  of  Cromwell's  horse.  At 
his  side  was  Governor  Winslow,  up  from  Plymouth,  on 
grave  affairs.  Behind  them  was  an  older  man,  and  per 
haps  a  wiser  one,  Governor  Simon  Bradstreet,  still  hale 
and  hearty  after  fifty-three  years  of  service  to  the 
colonies. 

Bringing  up  the  rear  of  the  little  procession  was  Henry 
Wainsworth,  private  secretary  to  Leverett.  He  looked 
toward  the  windows  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Garde,  but 
that  young  lady  stepped  silently  back  into  the  shadows, 
for  she  had  no  desire  to  be  seen. 

Neither  David  Donner  nor  the  other  visitors  came  to 

the  house,  nor  even  to  the  front  door  thereof.     It  was 

a  fine  day,    so  that  the  garden  seemed  all  smiles.     A 

cow  was  mooing  lustily  and  chickens  were  singing  in 

94 


A  Matter  of  State.  95 

their  contentment.  These  sounds  were  interspersed 
with  the  hawing  of  a  saw,  and  then  with  hammer 
strokes,  these  latter  disturbances  issuing  from  a  newly 
constructed  granary  and  cow-shed  which  John  Soam, 
Garde's  uncle,  had  recently  afforded. 

David  Donner,  who  had  known  that  he  would  find 
Goodman  Soam  in  this  shed,  had  tracked  across  the 
garden  without  ceremony.  The  governors  and  Wains- 
worth,  having  confidence  that  Donner  knew  what  he 
was  doing,  followed  where  he  led,  to  the  center  whence 
the  clatter  of  industry  proceeded. 

The  hammer-pounding  had  abated  nothing,  nor  did 
it  cease  when  the  three  grave  citizens  and  Wainsworth 
had  entered  the  house  and  ranged  themselves  silently 
beside  David  Donner,  to  whom  they  could  not  well 
speak  for  the  din.  They  nodded  to  their  friend,  how 
ever,  and  looked  up,  like  students  of  astronomy  all  of 
one  mind,  at  Goodman  Soam  above  them. 

John  Soam  had  never  been  reputed  a  carpenter  of 
talent  in  Boston.  However,  here  he  was,  standing  on 
the  head  of  a  barrel  and  obviously  completing  the  task 
of  ceiling  this  room  of  the  granary,  for  his  head,  shoul 
ders  and  arms  were  out  of  sight,  in  the  darksome  re 
gion  above  the  ceiling,  while  part  of  his  body  and  his 
legs,  below,  moved  in  vigorous  jerks  as  he  pounded  into 
place  and  nailed  what  appeared  to  be  the  last  board 
but  one  which  would  be  needed  to  complete  the  job  on 
which  he  was  so  commendably  engaged. 

It  seemed  to  his  visitors  that  they  had  never  before 
seen  Goodman  Soam  in  so  tight  an  orifice  as  was  the 
one  from  which  he  now  protruded.  They  waited  in 
patience  for  the  nailing  to  cease,  conversation  being  im- 


96  Hearts  of  Grace 

possible  meantime.  John  was,  by  all  reckoning,  a 
thorough  workman,  for  he  drove  home  nail  after  nail, 
without  ceasing  for  so  much  as  a  breath. 

At  length  the  board  was  secured  to  the  carpenter's 
satisfaction,  for  he  ceased  to  hammer  and  could  be 
heard  to  feel  his  work  lovingly  as  he  examined  its 
beauties  in  the  half  light  in  which  he  had  labored. 

"  Good  morrow,  John  Soam,"  now  said  Governor 
Leverett,  having  first  coughed  behind  his  hand.  "  Here 
are  several  fellow-townsmen  come  to  your  place." 

John  was  seen  to  give  a  squirm.  "  Oh,  good  morrow," 
said  he,  his  voice  muffled  by  the  ceiling  between  him 
and  his  friends.  "  I  have  been  doing  a  little  work. 
Wait  a  moment,  good  friend,  till  I  may  gather  my  nails 
and  tools." 

The  five  good  men  waited,  hearing  John  scramble  the 
nails  together  with  a  few  metallic  clinks. 

"  We  went  first  to  your  house,  David,"  said  John  Wins- 
low  to  David  Donner.  "We  came  to  see  you  and 
John  Soam,  as  promised,  on  a  matter  of  some  gravity." 

John  Soam  now,  upon  making  an  effort  to  retreat  out 
of  the  slender  orifice  which  he  had  left  when  he  nailed 
in  his  board,  found  his  chest  and  shoulders  thicker  than 
his  waist.  Ho  wriggled.  This  being  of  no  avail  to  extri 
cate  him,  he  struggled.  A  convulsion  of  activity  then 
seized  upon  him.  He  attempted  to  sit  down,  he  dragged 
at  himself,  he  began  to  do  unseemly  things.  But  he  could 
not  get  out.  He  had  hammered  in  his  own  head  and 
arms,  with  many  good  nails  in  the  board. 

His  friends  below  him  now  overheard  a  sound  which, 
in  a  simian,  if  simians  talked  at  all,  would  have  been  a 
curse.  John  wrestled  as  if  demons,  expert  in  catch- 


A  Matter  of  State.  97 

as-catch-can,  were  restraining  him  up  there  in  the  attic. 
He  kicked  about,  with  a  violence  so  great  as  to  overthrow 
the  barrel  whereon  he  had  been  standing.  For  a  sec 
ond  his  two  blind  feet  felt  about  for  his  whilom  support 
in  an  agony  of  helplessness. 

"  Goodman  Leverett,"  he  then  bawled,  in  tones  of 
repressed  emotion,  "will  you  put  back  that  barrel  for 
a  moment,  till  I  may  come  down  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  constrain  your  legs  to  seemly  conduct, 
I  will,"  said  the  governor.  He  and  David  Donner 
having  received  a  kick  apiece,  now  reinstated  Goodman 
Soam's  pedestal. 

John  became  quiescent  for  a  moment.  His  friends 
shifted  about,  uneasily. 

"  May  we  help  you  in  any  respect,  John  ?  "  inquired 
Winslow. 

"  Are  you  fastened  in  ?"  added  Simon  Bradstreet. 

"  Might  we  not  pull  him  down  ?"  suggested  Wains- 
worth. 

"  My  friends,  how  many  be  you  ?"  said  the  hot,  muf 
fled  voice  of  John. 

"Five,"  said  one  of  the  solemn  governors.  "Shall 
we  give  you  a  little  assistance  ?  " 

"  It  would  only  be  a  little  I  should  want,"  said  the 
carpenter,  dropping  the  nails  he  had  clung  to  in  des 
peration. 

The  five  gentlemen  disposed  themselves  about  John's 
anatomy  and  pulled  at  his  legs  with  united  strength, 
grasping  the  cloth  of  his  trousers  for  the  purpose. 

"  Enough  !  enough  ! "  roared  John,  after  a  moment 
of  hopeless  pain  and  wriggling. 

His  warning  came  belated.  His  trousers  were  of 
7 


9$  Hearts  of  Grace 

good  stuff  enow,  but  trousers  have  their  limitations. 
They  parted,  slightly  above  the  uneven  line  of  gripping 
hands,  and  came  away  in  ragged  banners. 

The  five  citizens  were  horrified.  So  was  John.  Two  of 
the  gentlemen,  with  the  booty  taken  from  their  friend, 
fell  heavily  to  the  floor. 

"  Dear  me,  this  was  most  uncalled  for,"  said  David 
Donner. 

John  Soam  tried  to  draw  his  legs  up  under  his  coat, 
vainly.  He  made  terrible  sounds  of  anguish,  in  his 
nakedness  below  and  his  loneliness  up  above  the  ceil 
ing.  His  fellow-citizens,  undecided  as  to  whether  they 
should  go  outside,  for  the  sake  of  modesty,  or  remain 
and  lend  further  aid  to  John,  looked  at  one  another  in 
quiringly. 

"John,"  then  said  Leverett,  somewhat  sternly, 
"  would  you  council  us  to  get  an  ax  and  knock  out 
the  board  you  have  hammered  into  place  ?  " 

"Yes,"  bawled  the  carpenter,  "there  be  two  axes  in 
the  corner.  Let  them  both  be  employed  ! " 

"  I  have  chopped  down  a  tree  in  my  youth,"  said 
David  Donner. 

He  therefore  took  one  of  the  axes,  while  Governor 
Winslow  took  the  second. 

They  were  then  at  a  loss  to  reach  the  ceiling,  where 
fore  it  became  necessary  for  the  good  men  to  build  up  a 
platform,  of  boxes  and  boards,  while  John  Soam's  legs 
tried  to  hide,  one  behind  the  other. 

The  platform  being  hastily  constructed,  the  ax-men 
mounted  and  began  to  swing  ill-directed  blows  upward 
at  the  stubborn  board  which  the  carpenter  had  ham 
mered  in  so  thoroughly. 


A  Matter  of  State.  99 

No  more  than  three  blows  had  been  delivered  when 
John  made  protest,  howling  lustily  for  the  purpose,  as 
the  ax-men  failed  at  first  to  hear  him,  while  busy  with 
their  work  of  salvation. 

"  It  jars  me  rudely,"  he  roared  out,  unable  wholly  to 
repress  his  feelings.  "It's  hellish." 

"  Ahem,"  said  Governor  Leverett.  "  What  would 
you  council  us  to  do  next,  friend  Soam  ?" 

"Saw  the  board,"  counciled  John.  "  It  was  a  rare 
good  fit,  but  it  had  best  be  sawed. " 

The  platform  was  now  changed  and  one  after  another 
the  five  citizens  plied  the  saw,  for  the  board  was  wet, 
and  to  saw  above  one's  head  is  irksome  in  a  high  de 
gree.  Yet  at  length  the  cut  was  made,  at  one  end, 
and  those  below  could  thrust  the  imprisoning  plank 
upward.  Being  still  stoutly  nailed  at  the  further  end, 
the  board  scraped  off  some  buttons,  erstwhile  sewn  to 
John's  waistcoat,  and  it  otherwise  harassed  him  before 
it  was  high  enough  to  permit  the  carpenter  to  emerge 
from  his  attic.  He  appeared  at  last,  however,  red  of 
countenance  and  in  a  fine  condition  to  do  some  private 
blaspheming,  had  the  opportunity  been  present  for  the 
exercise  of  this,  man's  inalienable  function.  His  friends 
were  immeasurably  relieved  to  see  him,  safe. 

"  Friend  John,"  said  David  Donner,  "  we  have  come 
hither  on  matters  of  state.  When  you  are  rehabilitated 
we  shall,  I  believe,  be  glad  of  your  further  counsel." 


CHAPTEE  X. 

TO   FOIL  A   SPY. 

His  friends,  forming  a  hollow  square,  now  escorted 
John  to  the  house  at  a  quick  walk.  He  disappeared 
like  a  Jack  into  its  box,  when  the  door  was  finally 
opened,  while  the  grave  citizens  entered  the  parlor  and 
awaited  his  return.  Clothed  decorously  once  more,  he 
was  presently  with  them  again,  when  the  council  of 
five,  with  Wainsworth  sitting  near,  drew  up  to  the 
heavy,  oaken  table. 

They  now  listened  to  Governor  Winslow,  who  had 
journeyed  from  Plymouth  for  this  meeting. 

"I  have  begun  to  lose  hope,"  he  said,  "that  we 
shall  be  able  to  postpone  much  longer  the  day  of  evil. 
"We  thought  our  charter  was  threatened  ten  or  twelve 
years  ago  and  we  have  held  it  by  sheer  power  of  pro 
crastination  and  tactics  of  elusiveness,  but  Randolph 
has  been  with  us  here  in  Boston  for  seven  years,  and  the 
harm  he  did  to  our  independence  in  seventy-six  has 
been  accumulating  interest  in  trouble  for  us,  one  might 
say,  ever  since.  He  has  mastered  our  methods  ;  he  is 
closing  in  upon  us  every  day.  It  is  now  a  desperate 
case,  requiring  a  desperate  remedy.  The  only  question 
is,  what  means  can  we  undertake  to  offset  some  of  the 
ill  repute  in  which  he  has  caused  King  Charles  to  hold 
us,  and  to  nullify  his  further  machinations/' 
100 


To  Foil  a  Spy.  101 

"  It  would  not  be  safe,  would  it,  to  expel  the  man 
Randolph  from  the  colony  ?  "  said  Leverett,  who  had 
first  coughed  behind  his  hand. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Donner. 

"  Such  an  action  would  precipitate  difficulties  with 
the  King,"  added  Simon  Bradstreet. 

"  And  we  would  not  dare  to  restrain  him  from  further 
evil  work  ?  "  John  Soam  inquired. 

His  friends  shook  their  heads. 

"  We  know  well  enough  that  he  has  gathered  much 
testimony  from  persons  willing  to  swear  falsely,  as  to 
the  grants  to  Gorges  and  Mason,  in  Maine  and  New 
Hampshire,"  said  David  Donner.  ' '  Might  we  not  go 
over  this  same  ground  and  procure  true,  sworn  testi 
mony  and  statements  from  more  credible  persons,  with 
which  to  refute  him  ?  " 

"  That  would  have  been  well  advised  seven  years  ago," 
said  Bradstreet,  who  had  a  way  of  tweaking  his  own 
nose  when  he  began  to  speak,  "  but  at  that  time  we 
were  still  engrossed  with,  and  alarmed  by,  the  war  with 
King  Philip,  and  moreover  we  knew  nothing  of  Ran 
dolph's  methods.  It  would  have  done  well  then,  but 
now  it  is  too  late — much  too  late — for  that  sort  of 
work." 

"  I  have  thought  upon  the  matter  long  and  seriously," 
said  Winslow.  "  I  can  see  no  way  so  good  as  to  send 
an  agent  from  among  ourselves  to  England,  to  inter 
cede  with  Charles  and  to  plead  our  cause  personally  at 
the  Court,  day  after  day." 

David  Donner  knew  what  was  coming.  He  glared 
at  an  imaginary  Stuart  family. 

John  Soam  said  :  "I  can  see  the  wisdom  of  such  a 


102  Hearts  of  Grace 

course.  I  consider  that  when  Goodman  Simon  Brad- 
street  went  to  London  before,  he  did  this  colony  great 
service.  That  was — let  me  see — why,  twenty-three 
good  long  years  since.  Are  you  of  a  mind  -to  go  once 
more,  Friend  Simon  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  old  man,"  said  Bradstreet,  tweaking  his 
nose  with  extra  vigor.  "  A  younger  wit  would  be  of 
far  more  service." 

With  his  four  score  of  years  on  his  head  Simon  Brad- 
street  yet  did  injustice  to  his  immortal  youth  and 
energy.  The  council  knew  that  it  was  the  gall  and 
wormwood  which  he  had  manfully  swallowed,  twenty- 
three  years  before,  when  he  went  to  Charles  the  Second 
to  congratulate  him  upon  his  restoration  to  the  throne, 
that  wrought  upon  him  now  more  than  did  the  infirmi 
ties  of  age. 

"  If  we  prove  successful  in  finding  an  agent  from 
among  us,  Friend  Soam,"  said  Winslow,  "  will  you  be 
one  with  us  to  find  money  for  his  pilgrimage  ?  " 

"And  whom  would  you  have  in  mind?"  John 
cautiously  replied. 

The  governors  turned  with  one  accord  to  David 
Donner. 

"  They  have  asked  this  service  of  me, "said  David. 

Leverett  said  :  "  There  is  no  one  else  so  free,  so 
gifted  and  so  bountifully  supplied  with  knowledge  of 
these  colonies.  Nor  is  there  any  one  among  us  whose 
comprehension  of  the  intrigues  and  artifices  employed 
by  Kandolph  is  so  reliable." 

"  We  have  none  among  us  more  diplomatic  and 
logical  and  yet  adherent  to  the  cause  of  truth,"  added 
Winslow. 


To  Foil  a  Spy.  103 


(C 


I  feel  sure,  David,  you  are  the  fittest  man  in 
Boston  for  this  important  undertaking,"  John  Soam 
said,  gravely. 

"  And  we  could  count  on  you  to  furnish  some  of  the 
necessary  funds,  if  Donner  will  go,  could  we  not?" 
asked  Winslow,  striking  while  the  Soam  iron  was  hot. 

' '  You  may,  to  be  sure/'  John  responded,  more  slowly. 
"  But  David  has  not  yet  indicated  whether  he  will 
undertake  this  mission  or  no." 

This  was,  indeed,  the  crucial  point.  Strict  old 
Puritan  that  he  was,  despiser  of  ostentations,  father 
already  of  that  spirit  of  independence  and  Americanism 
being  sown  broadcast  in  New  England,  David  Donner 
had  already  made  many  a  wry  face  over  the  prospect 
of  serving  the  colony  by  an  expedient  so  bitter  as  he 
conceived  this  present  task  to  be. 

"  I  have  debated  this  matter,  since  I  had  my  first  in 
timation  of  what  to  expect  from  Governor  Winslow/' 
he  said,  pursing  up  his  mouth  as  if  he  were  about  to 
swallow  a  brew  of  hoarhound.  "  I  am  not  a  young 
man  myself.  I  may  never  return  to  this  land.  But — 
if  it  is  the  prompting  of  your  wisdom  to  send  me,  I 
cannot  refuse  to  serve  this  colony  and  these  earnest, 
toiling  people." 

Of  the  joy  which  his  colleagues  felt  there  was  no  sign 
apparent.  For  that  matter,  they  would  be  as  sad  at 
losing  Donner  from  their  circle  as  they  would  be  glad 
to  send  him  on  his  mission.  Their  lives  were  made  up 
of  joyless  duties,  woven  as  a  woof  through  a  warp  of 
joyless  worship. 

But  among  his  hearers  there  was  Wainsworth,  and 
he  was  glad,  not  so  much  to  have  the  severe  old  man 


IO4  Hearts  of  Grace 

going  abroad,  as  to  know  that  Mistress  Garde  Merrill 
would  now  in  all  probability  remain  permanently  with 
John  Soam  and  his  wife,  who  were  good-natured, 
affectionate  people.  Indeed  Mrs.  Soam  was  a  natural 
woman,  more  delighted  when  she  was  fostering  or  en 
couraging  a  mating,  'twixt  youthful  hearts,  than  she 
was  when  kneading  dough  into  loaves  that  looked  like 
fat,  dimpled  babies,  and  this  is  saying  more  than  might 
readily  be  supposed. 

Thus  when,  soon  after,  the  meeting  had  broken  up 
and  the  Governors  had  stiffly  departed,  it  was  but 
natural  that  Henry  should  discover,  innocently  enough, 
that  he  had  left  a  bundle  of  papers  behind.  It  was 
quite  as  natural,  also,  that  upon  returning  and  purposely 
knocking  at  the  door  of  the  family  living-room,  whereas 
the  papers  should  have  been  still  in  the  parlor,  he  should 
be  admitted  by  Good  wife  Soam  and  asked  in  most  cor 
dially,  and  sent  with  Garde  to  look  for  the  truant 
documents. 


CHAPTER  XL 

DANGEROUS  TRIBUTES. 

ELOQUENT  as  Wains  worth  had  proved  himself,  in  the 
presence  of  Adam,  he  was  but  an  indifferent  love's- 
man,  now  that  he  found  himself  alone  with  Garde. 

"  I  wanted  to  come  back  for— for  the  papers,"  he 
stammered. 

"  Yes,;'  said  Garde,  whose  spirit  of  elfishness  Henry 
always  aroused,  "they  would  soon  have  missed  you 
sorely." 

"  Would  they — What,  papers  ? — Oh,  you  are  making 
fun  of " 

"  I  am  making  a  search  to  find  them/'  interrupted 
Garde.  "  Here  they  are.  I  am  so  sorry  they  have 
detained  you." 

"Thank  you — oh,  thank  you,"  said  Henry,  still 
stumbling  confusedly.  "  It  is  such  a  lovely  day  I 
thought  I  should  like  to  come  back  and — and — and  see 
— if  I  had  really  left  them  here." 

"  Yes,  such  a  lovely  day  would  make  any  one  wish  to 
do  the  same  thing,"  said  Garde,  gravely.  "  Now  that 
you  have  them,  you  must  be  very  happy  again." 

"  Yes,  oh  yes — no,  no,  the  papers  haven't  made  me 
happy." 

"  Then  I  am  sorry  you  are  sad,"  said  Garde.  "  Per- 

105 


io6  Hearts  of  Grace 

haps  the  lovely  day  outside  will  make  you  feel  more 
joyous  again." 

"  But  I  am  not  sad,"  protested  Henry,  getting  mo 
mentarily  redder.  "I  wanted  to  say — I  wanted  to 
come  back " 

"  Yes,  you  did  say  so,  to  get  the  papers." 

«  No — yes  ! — but  I  wanted  to  say " 

"That  you  had  left  them,  because  it  was  such  a 
lovely  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course,  but — no,  no,  I  wanted  to  say — 
church  I" 

"  Oh,  they  are  church  papers,  Mr.  Wainsworth  ? " 
asked  Garde  innocently. 

"  No,  I — I  wanted  to  say  it  is  such  a  lovely  day " 

"  You  have  said  so  many  things  that  you  may  have 
mentioned  the  day  before."  Garde'  eyes  were  dancing, 
but  he  had  hardly  dared  to  look  at  her  face,  lest  his 
tongue  should  fail  him  utterly. 

He  now  fixed  his  attention  on  the  table  with  all  his 
power  of  will. 

"  I  wanted  to  say,  if  the  Sabbath  is  a  lovely  day,  like 
this,  may  I  not  walk  to  meeting  with  you  and  David 
Donner  ?  " 

Piqued  somewhat  by  the  way  Adam  had  treated  her, 
Garde  instantly  saw  a  possible  opportunity  of  arousing 
Adam's  jealousy.  He  would  doubtless  attend  meeting. 
He  might  see  her  with  Henry.  As  Prudence  would 
also  be  there,  with  her  father,  there  might  be  further 
developments. 

"If  it  is  a  lovely  day,  Mr.  Wainsworth,"  she  an 
swered,  "I  think  Granther  Donner  will  be  glad  of 
your  company,  but  if  it  is  not  a  lovely  day,  Granther 


Dangerous  Tributes.  107 

and  I  will  have  to  get  along  as  best  we  may,  alone,  I 
suppose." 

"  No,  I  meant  any  sort  of  a  day  ! "  cried  Wainsworth, 
desperately.  "If  the  Sabbath  is  any  sort  of  a  day.  I 
only  said  if  it  was  as  lovely  as  to-day  because  any  day, 
would  be  a  lovely  day,  if "  and  there  he  stuck. 

"If  it  were  as  lovely  as  to-day,"  Garde  supplied. 

"  Yes/'  said  Henry,  hopelessly.  "  Then— then  that 
is  settled?" 

"Do  you  mean  the  weather  ?  It  ought  to  be  settled, 
I  should  think." 

"  No,  I  mean  that  I  am  to  go  with  you  and  David 
Donner  to  meeting,  no  matter  what  sort  of  a  day  it  is." 

"  I  think  Granther  will  be  glad  of  your  company," 
said  Garde  again.  She  led  the  way  back  to  the  living- 
room  before  Henry  could  frame  any  more  of  his  tumble 
down  speeches." 

Prudence  and  her  mother  were  both  here,  now,  and 
both  looked  up  to  smile  at  Wainsworth,  whom  they  had 
grown  to  like  for  his  evident  sincerity.  Mrs.  Soam 
was  a  pleasant  woman,  with  a  double  chin  from  which 
it  seemed  all  manner  of  comfortable  little  chucklings  of 
good-nature  took  their  start.  She  should  have  been 
the  mother  of  several  boys,  for  she  liked  nice  boys  and 
felt  a  sense  of  motherhood  over  all  she  knew.  Pru 
dence  was  not  at  all  like  her  mother.  Her  face  was 
small  and  serious.  She  spoke  with  a  quaint  drawl. 
Although  quite  as  old  as  Garde,  she  appeared  so  un- 
sophiscated  and  childish,  so  quiet  and  unassertive 
that  no  one  would  have  looked  to  find  womanly  emo 
tions,  in  her  breast. 

"  Well,  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Soam,  who  always  called 


io8  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  her  boys  "  by  their  first  names,  ( '  how  have  you  been 
and  what  have  you  been  doing  ?  Have  you  heard  from 
England  recently  ?  How  was  your  mother,  when  you 
heard?' 

"  She  was  quite  well,  thank  you,"  said  Henry,  who 
could  talk  to  Garde's  aunt  without  confusion,  "  but  I 
have  not  heard  from  her  recently.  Oh — I  nearly  for 
got — I  have  heard  from  England,  in  a  manner.  That 
is,  a  friend  1  knew  there,  arrived  in  Boston  only  yester 
day." 

"  Yes  ?     And  who  was  that  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Soam. 

Garde  had  started  to  go  up-stairs  to  her  own  apart 
ment,  which  she  shared  with  Prudence,  but  she  halted 
at  the  door  and  came  back,  for  Wainsworth  said  : 

"  His  name  is  Adam  Bust." 

Garde  and  Prudence  both  took  up  some  knitting  and 
began  to  ply  the  needles,  over  which  their  eyes  were 
bent,  intently. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Soam,  encouragingly.  "Is  he  a 
Puritan  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  "Wainsworth,  frankly.  "  I 
think  perhaps  he  is.  At  any  rate,  he  belongs  here,  I 
feel  sure.  But  wherever  he  belongs,  or  whatever  he  is, 
he's  a  splendid  fellow.  I  was  riding  to  hounds  when 
we  met.  My  horse  threw  me,  and  my  foot  was  caught 
in  the  stirrup.  I  was  being  dragged  when  Eust  stopped 
my  run-away  horse.  He  is  one  of  the  most  superb  horse 
men  I  ever  knew." 

"  Why,  do  you  mean  that  he  saved  your  life  ?"  in 
quired  Good  wife  Soam.  ( '  It  must  have  been  a  terrible 
moment." 

"  I  haven't  much  brains,  but  I  was  about  to  lose  what 


Dangerous  Tributes.  109 

I  had,"  said  Wainsworth,  generously.  "  He  came  in 
the  nick  of  time.  And  afterwards,  when  I  happened  to 
be  a  bit  short  of  funds — as  a  man  will,  you  know, 
sometimes — why,  he  loaned  me  nearly  every  penny  he 
had  in  the  world  ! " 

"  Was  that  not  most  improvident  ?  "  said  the  listener. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  was.  You  know,  you  wouldn't 
call  him  exactly  provident.  He  is  too  good-hearted 
a  fellow  to  be  that,  you  know.  He  is  one  of  those 
fellows  you  can  tell  anything  about  yourself.  I  tell 
him  everything." 

He  looked  up  at  Garde,  as  he  said  this,  wishing  he 
could  tell  her  the  half  that  he  had  confided  to  Rust. 
She  never  lifted  her  eyes,  however,  from  her  knitting. 

"  And  what  did  he  tell  you  of  your  mother  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Soam. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  He  never  knew  the  mater." 
Henry  tried  to  think  what  Adam  had  told  him.  "  He 
just — well,  told  me  of  a  few  general  matters." 

Garde  listened  eagerly,  almost  breathlessly,  dwelling 
on  every  word  concerning  Rust,  but  her  aunt  returned 
once  more  to  the  subject  of  Wainsworth's  mother  and 
no  more  was  heard  of  Adam,  for  Henry  presently  bade 
them  all  good  day  and  proceeded  to  follow,  belated  as 
he  was,  where  his  chief  had  gone,  at  the  close  of  the 
meeting. 

When  he  disappeared,  Garde  dropped  her  knitting 
and  went  quietly  up  the  stairs,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
alone,  to  think. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOURS  THAT  GROW  DARK. 

CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  PHIPPS  was  as  eager  as  a  boy,  now 
that  he  had  definitely  settled  on  the  purpose  which 
had  for  its  object  the  quest  of  the  sunken  treasure. 
Therefore  he  and  Adam  and  the  beef-eaters  worked  un 
ceasingly  to  prepare  the  brig,"  Captain  Spencer,"  for 
the  cruise  to  the  Bahamas. 

What  with  provisioning  the  craft,  enlisting  more 
trustworthy  men  for  the  voyage  and  refitting  a  some 
what  depleted  and  inefficient  arsenal,  Phipps  waxed 
brusque  and  impatient.  He  had  desired  to  get  away 
from  Boston  not  later  than  Saturday  afternoon,  but  as 
the  tasks  before  them  had  been  tackled  by  Adam  and 
the  rest  of  them  on  Friday  morning,  the  worthy  Cap 
tain's  ambition  to  be  on  the  sea  on  the  Sabbath — a  day 
for  which  he  had  little  liking — was  vain.  Saturday 
night  therefore  approached  and  Phipps  fumed,  for  he 
could  not  so  outrage  the  Puritans'  sense  of  things 
Godly  as  to  sail  on  Sunday,  wherefore  the  departure 
had  perforce  to  be  postponed  till  Monday  morning. 

Adam,  with  an  exaggerated  sense  of  honor,  had 
resisted  the  longing  to  go  by  night  to  that  same  alley  in 
which  he  had  rescued  Garde's  cat  and  met  that  young 
lady  with  Mistress  Prudence  Soam.  He  spent  the  time 
with  his  beef-eaters  and  with  Wainsworth,  making 
no 


Hours  that  Grow  Dark.  in 

merry  for  these  music-hungering  friends  on  the  violin, 
which  now  seemed  to  him  more  than  ever  the  one  thing 
left  him  on  which  to  concentrate  the  love  of  his  affec 
tionate  nature. 

On  Sunday  morning  Captain  Phipps  betook  himself 
to  his  brig,  as  she  lay  in  mid-stream,  to  pother  about 
by  himself,  while  Adam  dutifully  escorted  Goodwife 
Phipps  to  meeting,  at  South  Church,  which  was  nearer 
than  the  old  church  and  more  popular  as  well. 

It  was  a  solemn,  black  procession  of  Puritans  that 
walked  decorously  to  meeting  in  the  sunlight.  The 
day  was  one  of  almost  unseemly  beauty,  for  Nature  was 
fairly  barbarous  in  the  colors  which  she  wore  like  jew 
els.  There  was  riotous  gladness  in  the  breeze  that  tipped 
back  the  bonnets  from  many  a  pretty  face,  to  let  the 
sun  have  a  look  at  peach-bloom  cheeks  ;  there  was 
a  deviltry  in  the  warmth  that  the  girls  felt  first  at  their 
ankles,  where  thin  stockings  only  protected  them  ;  and 
there  was  a  twitter  and  chirrup  of  birds  in  the  air. 

In  their  homely  black  and  their  stiff  white  collars, 
the  men  were  as  solemn  as  posts.  No  bells  sounded, 
either  from  afar,  with  mellowed  pealings,  nor  nearer 
with  persistent  nagging.  Men,  women  and  children 
alike  walked  with  their  eyes  steadfastly  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

However,  there  were  two  pairs  of  eyes  less  meek. 
They  were  Adam's  and  Garde's.  It  therefore  came  to 
pass  that  each  discovered  the  other,  before  the  church 
portals  were  reached.  Garde's  heart  began  to  beat  as 
if  it  were  knocking  to  call  Adam's  attention.  Adam's 
hammered  as  if  it  were  forging  more  fetters  to  bind  him 
tighter  in  his  love. 


H2  Hearts  of  Grace 

Garde,  with  her  grandfather  and  Wainsworth,  pre 
ceded  Rust  and  Mrs.  Phipps  into  the  sanctuary.  Adam 
followed  eagerly,  and  yet  as  one  about  to  enter  a  prison. 
He  had  seen  Wainsworth,  but  Henry,  in  his  ecstasy,  had 
contented  himself  with  looking  devotedly  at  Garde's 
little  shoes. 

Inside  the  church,  Garde  sat  somewhat  toward  the 
back,  while  Adam,  with  the  men,  occupied  a  bench  at 
the  side  of  the  building  from  which  he  could  see  Mis 
tress  Merrill's  profile  perfectly,  as  often  as  he  dared  to 
look  in  her  direction. 

Garde,  with  much  resolution,  permitted  herself  not 
so  much  as  one  tiny  nicker  of  a  glance  toward  Adam, 
all  during  the  time  of  service.  She  felt  him  looking  at 
her,  however,  from  time  to  time,  and  rejoiced  that  her 
little  ruse  to  make  him  stirred  up  and  mayhap  jealous 
was  succeeding.  The  flush  of  maidenhood's  beauty 
which  had  mounted  to  her  cheek,  the  moment  she 
found  that  Adam  was  near,  remained  throughout  the 
morning. 

Later  to  church  than  any  other,  a  man,  alone,  and 
none  too  reverent,  entered  the  door  and  took  a  seat 
on  the  side,  from  which  he  could  scan  many  of  the  faces 
in  the  place.  It  was  Randolph.  He  had  come  there 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  looking  about  him,  his  reasons 
being  various,  but  none  of  them  Godly.  He  shut  his 
mouth  grimly  at  beholding  Adam  present,  but  when  his 
gaze  finally  rested  on  Garde,  all  the  more  radiantly 
beautiful  for  the  simplicity  of  her  dress,  it  became  fixed, 
first,  then  covetous,  and  finally  passionate. 

It  was  not  until  the  meeting  was  finished  that  Garde 
ventured  to  take  a  sly  glance  at  Adam.  Her  gaze  met 


Hours  that  Grow  Dark.  113 

his.  She  saw  and  comprehended,  then,  such  a  fathom 
less  sadness  in  his  look,  before  he  could  drop  his  gaze, 
that  she  was  instantly  most  penitent  over  what  she  had 
done. 

It  was  the  same  look  she  had  seen  in  his  eyes  that 
day  when  he  had  marched  as  a  captive,  at  the  end  of 
King  Philip's  war — a  look  she  never  had,  and  never 
could,  forget. 

As  for  Bust,  he  had  confirmed  to  his  satisfaction,  all 
that  Wainsworth  had  told  him.  If  he  had  not  been 
convinced  before  and  ready  to  renounce  his  own  hopes, 
he  was  quite  persuaded  and  determined  now.  He 
thought  how  fortunate  it  was  that  Phipps  had  the  brig 
all  ready  to  sail  on  the  morrow.  It  was  very  much  bet 
ter  to  end  the  matter  with  the  smallest  possible  delay. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  with  Phipps  and  the  beef 
eaters  on  the  ship.  To  his  credit,  he  made  himself  an 
agreeable  and  cheerful  companion.  Indeed,  what  with 
the  songs  he  had  sung  for  Wainsworth  and  the  others, 
and  the  spirit  of  his  raillery,  boasting  and  readiness  to 
fight  or  to  fiddle,  he  had  succeeded  in  deceiving  them 
all  as  to  the  nature  under  his  waistcoat. 

Yet  when  the  night  was  come  and  the  magnet  which 
had  been  drawing  and  drawing  him  to  that  alley,  sacred 
to  the  memory  of  Garde's  cat,  once  more  exercised  its 
influence,  more  powerfully  than  ever,  he  became  a 
restless  creature. 

It  has  been  said  that  man  justifies  himself  in  whatso 
ever  he  does.  Adam  thought  he  needed  justification 
for  desiring  to  go  once,  just  once,  into  that  alley, 
wherefore  he  prepared  his  mind  with  several  excuses. 
Armed  with  these  he  at  length  slipped  away  from  the 
8 


ii4  Hearts  of  Grace 

Crow  and  Arrow  and  found  his  way  to  the  rear  of 
that  house  into  which  he  had  seen  Garde  and  Pru 
dence  disappear,  on  that  memorable  first  night  in 
Boston. 

Had  Eust  come  to  this  trysting-place  at  the  same 
hour  on  the  two  previous  evenings,  he  would  have  met 
Mistress  Merrill  face  to  face.  Garde,  in  her  impulsive 
eagerness  to  see  him  again,  had  waited  for  little  debat 
ing  before  she  slipped  from  the  house,  to  see  if  he 
might  not  have  come  to  deliver  that  certain  trinket 
from  Hispaniola.  Her  cousin  Prudence,  more  diffi 
dent,  had  desired  to  come  forth  also,  but  she  had 
lacked  Garde's  readiness  of  execution  and  courage. 
However  she  had  not  lacked  the  incentive,  and  as  no 
maiden  is  utterly  awed,  in  the  presence  of  a  tender 
passion,  Mistress  Prudence  had  at  length  steeled  her 
heart,  and  to-night  she  came  tripping  diffidently  forth, 
not  long  after  Adam's  arrival  on  the  scene. 

So  silently  had  Prudence  come  that  Adam,  who 
might  have  arranged  otherwise,  suddenly  found  himself 
confronted,  before  he  had  made  up  his  mind  whether 
he  wished  any  one  might  appear  or  not. 

"  Why,  good  evening,  Mr.  Rust,"  said  Prudence, 
with  a  little  gasp  at  her  own  daring,  "  why,  I  was  just 
walking  in  the  garden  and  couldn't  think  who  it  might 
be,  here  by  the  gate.  Why,  how  strange  we  should 
meet  ! " 

Adam  had  said  good  evening,  waving  a  salute  grandly 
with  his  hat,  the  moment  Prudence  had  spoken,  for  he 
had  realized  instantly  that  she  was  not  Garde  and  his 
presence  of  mind  had  risen  to  the  occasion  without 
delay. 


Hours  that  Grow  Dark.  115 

"  I — wandered  up  here  looking,  for — for  distressed 
cats/'  said  Adam. 

"  Oh,  did  you  ?  "  said  Prudence,  innocently.  "  That 
was  real  noble/' 

Adam  hated  to  have  anything  he  did  called  noble. 
He  therefore  hastened  to  do  penance,  in  a  measure,  for 
his  slightly  inaccurate  statement. 

"  I  am  bound  to  confess,"  he  added,  "  that  I  did 
have  a  faint  hope  that  I  might  see  either  you  or  Mistress 
Merrill — or  both — to  say  good-by,  for  to-morrow  I  am 
off  again,  for  a  jaunt  on  the  sea." 

"Going  away?"  echoed  Prudence.  "Oh,  why, 
Garde  might  be  disappointed,  not  to  see  you  and  say 
good-by." 

Adam  thought  this  was  sweet  of  Prudence,  as  indeed 
it  was.  He  could  have  mentioned  some  disappoint 
ments  himself,  but  he  refrained  from  doing  so.  He 
thought,  in  a  somewhat  bitterly  philosophical  vein,  that 
perhaps  it  was  better  as  it  was,  better  that  he  should 
not  see  Garde  again,  under  the  circumstances. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  he  said.  "Perhaps  it  would 
not  be  asking  too  much  of  you  to  get  you  to  take  a 
small  packet — in  fact,  I  have  presumed  to  provide  my 
self  with  two  little  packages,  which  I  trust  you  and 
Mistress  Merrill  will  receive,  merely  as  tokens  of  a 
rover's  amusement  in  the  little  event  of  a  few  evenings 
ago,  and  of  a  pleasant  memory  which  the  episode  will 
furnish  for  otherwise  lonely  moments." 

He  had  indeed  made  up  two  small  parcels,  intending 
behind  the  ruse  of  making  a  small  gift  to  both  Garde 
and  Prudence,  to  bestow  thus  the  present  to  Garde 
brought  from  Hispaniola  and  long  delayed  as  to 


n6  Hearts  of  Grace 

delivery.  He  therefore  took  these  carefully  wrapped 
trinkets  from  his  pocket  and  held  them  forth. 

ft  If  I  might  prevail  upon  your  good  nature,"  he  said, 
"  to  accept  this  one  and  to  give  this  other  into  the 
hands  of  Mistress  Merrill,  I  should  be  grateful  to  you 
for  the  favor." 

Fate  takes  obvious  delight  in  making  her  weavings 
complete.  It  was  inevitable  that  Garde  should  come 
out  to  that  garden  gate,  while  Adam  and  Prudence 
were  talking  there  together,  and  that  she  should  there 
fore  see  Adam,  presenting  something  to  her  cousin, 
and  should  at  once  proceed  to  place  an  erroneous  con 
struction  on  the  situation.  Angered,  humiliated  and 
hurt,  she  fled  back  to  the  house,  as  Prudence  was  ac 
cepting  the  proffered  trinkets  and  regretfully  bidding 
Adam  Rust  good-by. 

It  was  hardly  feasible  so  to  conceal  herself  in  the 
house  that  Prudence  would  be  long  in  searching  her 
out,  when  at  length  that  quiet  and  pleased  young  lady 
came  back  to  the  house,  hence  Garde  accepted  Adam's 
present  before  she  exactly  comprehended  what  she  was 
doing. 

Prudence,  having  performed  her  duty,  when  the  gift 
had  passed  to  its  rightful  owner,  hastened  away  to  open 
her  own  packet,  in  privacy.  She  found  an  old  Spanish 
doubloon  in  the  bit  of  paper,  and  though  a  trifle  disap 
pointed  that  she  did  not  discover  an  accompanying 
inscription,  was  nevertheless  gladdened  to  the  very  core 
of  her  being. 

Garde,  rebellious  and  ready  to  weep  with  conflicting 
emotions,  which  had  not  been  assuaged  by  hearing 
Prudence  tell  how  innocently  she  had  happened  to 


Hours  that  Grow  Dark.  117 

meet  Mr.  Rust,  felt  like  flinging  Adam's  gift  upon  the 
floor  and  stamping  it  flat  with  her  lively  little  foot. 
But  the  tenderness  of  the  love  she  had  fostered  so  long, 
and  the  slight  hope  to  which  she  still  clung,  combined 
with  her  natural  curiosity,  proved  too  strong  for  resist 
ance.  She  opened  the  neatly  tied  and  folded  paper. 

Inside  was  a  golden  brooch  of  exquisite  workman 
ship,  a  treasure  absolutely  irresistible  to  any  beauty- 
loving  young  woman.  But  her  gaze  flew  to  a  secondary 
little  wad  of  paper,  folded  as  a  note.  This  she  tore 
open  with  nerveless  fingers. 

"  From  Hispaniola,"  Adam  had  written,  simply. 

Under  this  he  had  penned  a  quatrain  of  rather  ob 
scure  meaning  and  weakly  versification  : 

"  It  always  haps,  when  there  are  three, 
But  two  can  bide  in  unity  ; 
That  two  may  long  their  gladness  keep, 
The  third  should  bury  sorrow  deep." 

Garde  read  these  lines  and  then  read  them  again, 
more  puzzled  by  the  second  perusal  than  she  had  been 
by  the  first.  She  began  then  to  feel  wounded.  She 
was  ready  to  cry.  The  brooch  had  made  her  heart 
bound  with  joy.  Then  she  remembered  that  Adam 
had  procured  it  for  her  years  before,  since  when  his 
affections  might  have  been  transferred,  his  ideals  might 
have  been  altered  and  the  sense  in  which  he  gave  it 
her  might  have  been  reduced  to  something  utterly  un- 
romantic.  He  might  indeed  have  given  it  to  her  only 
because  of  his  desire  to  keep  a  foolish  promise  made  in 
his  boyhood. 

The  lines  were  not  an  explanation  of  his  conduct. 


n8  Hearts  of  Grace 

If  they  meant  that  she  was  a  third  party,  interfering 
with  the  happiness  of  himself  and  Prudence,  then  the 
tmkindness  of  it  all  was  not  the  full  depth  of  its  pos 
sibilities — it  was  impudent,  arrogant  and  fairly  hateful, 
in  that  light. 

On  the  other  hand,  could  it  be  possible  that  Adam 
did  not  mean  that  she  was  such  a  third  party  as  the 
lines  indicated,  and  if  so,  what  did  he  mean  ?  Was  he 
himself  such  a  third  party  ?  This  appeared  impossible 
on  the  very  face  of  it,  for  not  only  was  Garde  not 
interested  in,  and  happy  with,  some  other  person,  but 
if  she  had  been,  Adam  could  not  possibly  have  known 
it,  and  certainly,  in  the  two  times  they  had  met,  she  had 
given  him  no  reason  for  supposing  that  anything  of  the 
sort  could  exist. 

It  was  too  much  for  her  wearied  brain  to  cope  with. 
She  had  puzzled  over  Adam's  conduct  every  moment 
since  their  meeting  in  the  woods,  till  she  could  think 
no  more.  There  was  the  beautiful  brooch,  and  here 
were  these  ominous,  enigmatical  lines.  All  she  knew 
was  that  she  was  very  unhappy. 

Adam,  in  the  meantime,  made  progress  back  to  the 
tavern  as  if  he  were  all  but  becalmed  and  had  no  more 
than  steerage  way  at  the  best.  He  had  only  one  thing 
to  be  glad  about,  and  that  was  that  his  beef-eaters 
would  not  be  at  the  Crow  and  Arrow  to  meet  him. 
They  had  already  taken  up  quarters  on  the  brig. 
There  Adam  expected  to  join  them,  with  the  last  of 
his  worldly  goods,  when  he  should  have  taken  final 
leave  of  Wainsworth. 

When  he  reached  his  solitary  apartments,  however, 
he  was  sorry  the  faithful  old  beef-eaters  were  not  there 


Hours  that  Grow  Dark.  119 

to  give  him  welcome,  for  the  place  was  dark  and  cheer 
less.  He  lighted  his  candle  and  looked  about  the 
room  with  melancholy  interest. 

Presently  his  attention  was  attracted  to  a  number  of 
bright  spots  on  the  floor,  irregular  patches,  from  which 
the  light  was  reflected  somewhat  dully.  Candle  in 
hand  he  walked  toward  the  corner  where  these  glitter 
ing  objects  were  strewn  about.  With  a  sudden  mis 
giving  he  noted  that  his  violin  case  had  been  brought 
out  from  the  place  of  concealment  in  which  he  had 
carefully  kept  it. 

Bending  forward,  with  one  hand  poised  in  an  atti 
tude  of  arrested  action,  he  stared  at  the  litter  on  the 
floor,  his  face  becoming  colorless  as  he  stood  there, 
numbed.  A  low  moan  came  from  between  his  lips — 
sucTi  a  sound  as  he  had  made  in  his  sleep,  as  he  once 
lay  curled  up  at  the  foot  of  the  stake  on  which  King 
Philip's  head  was  impaled. 

The  fragments  on  tho  floor  were  the  scraps  and 
litter  of  his  violin.  There  was  not  one  piece  as  large 
as  three  of  his  fingers.  Isaiah  Pinchbecker  and  Psalms 
Higgler  had  taken  their  revenge. 

Slowly  Adam  knelt  down  and  gathered  the  bits  of 
wood  in  a  little  heap,  lovingly.  He  was  not  enraged. 
A  lover  who  finds  his  sweetheart  murdered  cannot  at 
first  be  filled  with  anger.  Adam  gathered  every  little 
scrap  and  splinter.  He  tried  to  fit  little  fragments 
together ;  he  tried  to  efface  heel-marks  and  bits  of 
boot-grime  from  some  of  the  pieces,  as  if  he  searched 
for  features  which  he  loved. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  realize  that  the  violin 
was  actually  destroyed.  He  looked  away  from  it  and 


120  Hearts  of  Grace 

then  back  at  the  small  heap  beneath  his  hands,  like 
one  half  expecting  to  wake  from  a  dream  and  find 
everything  as  it  had  been  before  something  unthinkable 
occurred. 

Perhaps  a  woman  who  had  given  to  her  child,  will 
ingly  and  absolutely,  the  mastery  over  her  every  emo 
tion,  thought  and  hope,  and  who  had  come  upon  the 
body  of  that  child,  slain  and  mutilated,  could  have 
understood  what  lonely  Adam  Rust  underwent. 

For  like  such  a  woman,  conceiving  a  fear  that  the 
despoilers  might  return  and  rob  her  even  of  the  body 
of  her  child,  the  man  presently,  in  a  fever  of  excite 
ment,  took  every  patch,  shred  and  chip  of  the  red  wood 
and  hiding  it  carefully  inside  his  waistcoat,  dropped 
himself  down  from  the  window  to  the  earth  and  went 
away  in  the  darkness,  like  a  wild  thing  pursued. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  KISS  DEFERRED. 

V 

GARDE,  when  she  had  questioned  her  cousin  Pru 
dence,  until  there  was  little  or  nothing  concerning 
Adam's  visit  and  farewell  at  the  gate  which  she  did  not 
know,  was  still  far  from  being  certain  of  anything  in 
connection  with  the  whole  predicament. 

One  thing,  however,  gave  her  a  small  measure  of 
comfort.  This  was  that  her  brooch  was  much  more 
beautiful  than  the  Spanish  doubloon  Adam  had  given 
to  Prudence.  Yet  this  comfort  grew  cold  as  she  re 
flected  that  even  if  Adam  did  possibly  like  her  as  much 
as  he  did  Prudence,  he  had  written  her  those  incom 
prehensible  lines  about  burying  sorrow,  and  he  had 
gone  away,  she  knew  not  where,  or  in  what  manner, 
without  even  giving  her  an  opportunity  of  bidding  him 
God-speed. 

Mistress  Merrill  was  not  impulsive  and  nimble- witted 
without  having  resources  at  command,  when  occasion 
demanded.  She  was  up  ahead  of  the  ordinary  lark,  on 
Monday  morning,  making  straight  for  the  home  of  old 
Goody  Dune,  for  whom  she  frequently  gathered 
simples. 

Goody  Dune  had  not  contented  herself  in  life  with 
simples  only.  She  had  gathered  complexities  of  wisdom 

121 


122  Hearts  of   Grace 

and  the  things  abstruse  in  life,  for  many  a  year.  She 
was  a  wrinkled  old  woman  whom  children,  kittens, 
dogs,  horses  and  all  things  guided  by  instinct  always 
sought  in  friendship  at  once.  Anyone  with  patience 
enough  to  reconstruct  her  face  on  the  lines  it  must 
once  have  worn,  in  her  youth,  would  have  found  per 
sonal  beauty  still  indicated  in  the  old  woman's  counte 
nance.  Her  eyes  still  ensnared  pretty  lights  of  humor ; 
her  lips  were  still  of  that  soft  texture  which  in  youth 
is  so  charming  and  in  old  age  too  flexible  over  vacancies 
where  teeth  are  gone.  Her  hair  was  plentiful  and  so 
entirely  gray  that  one  might  have  looked  at  it  closely 
and  then  have  said.:  "  Yes,  the  black  ones  seem  to  be 
coming  ;  they  will  soon  be  getting  quite  thick." 

Never  yet  had  Garde  been  able  to  get  to  Goody's 
house  sufficiently  early  to  knock  on  the  door.  Goody 
always  opened  it  to  receive  her.  And  always  the  old 
woman's  great  black  cat  stood  up,  on  top  of  the  tall 
clock,  on  which  she  had  been  lying  but  the  moment 
before,  now  arching  her  back  and  stretching,  to  add 
her  welcome  to  that  of  her  mistress. 

The  room  never  had  ceased  to  have  its  fascinations 
for  Garde,  since  the  first  time  she  had  seen  it,  in  her 
childhood.  The  small  bags,  which  hung  from  the 
rafters,  along  with  pendants  made  of  herbs,  roots  and 
bulbs,  might  have  contained  gold  and  precious  gems, 
for  all  that  Garde  knew  to  the  contrary,  while  the  dark 
cupboard  and  the  great  chest  increased  the  possibilities 
of  the  place,  which  would  have  been  so  grand  to  rum 
mage  in,  had  it  not  been  for  the  brass  warming-pan,  so 
terribly  like  a  watchful  moon,  forever  looking  down 
from  the  wall.  Then  lastly,  and  mostly,  in  some 


A  Kiss  Deferred.  123 

particulars,  tiiere  was  Kex,  the  jackdaw,  a  veritable 
concentration  of  all  the  dark  arts  and  wisdoms  extant. 

"  Good  morning,  my  dear,"  said  Goody,  as  Garde 
entered,  breathless  with  her  haste,  "  you  have  come  to 
see  me  early." 

"  She's  in  love,"  said  the  jackdaw,  gravely. 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  gasped  the  girl. 

"  Rex,  you  wicked  one,"  expostulated  Goody,  mildly. 
"  Never  mind,  my  dear,  he  found  you  out  that  morn 
ing  last  week." 

This  was  the  truth  for  Goody  had  said  these  very 
same  words,  several  times,  in  the  presence  of  Rex,  no 
more  than  five  minutes  after  Garde  had  gone,  that  day 
when  she  and  Adam  had  met  in  the  forest. 

"  But  I — oh,  Goody,  Rex  is  really  wicked,"  said 
Garde.  "  But  I  do  so  need  you  to  tell  me  something." 

"  Who  doesn't,"  answered  Goody.  "  What  a  pity  it 
would  be  if  I  could  never  save  anyone  in  the  world 
from  some  little  pain,  or  some  mistake,  and  yet  " — 
she  shook  her  head,  smiling  half  sadly — "  how  few 
human  beings  are  willing  even  to  listen.  They  must 
all  burn  their  fingers  and  learn  for  themselves." 

"  Fools  ! "  said  the  jackdaw,  "  fools,  fools,  fools. 
Fm  a  fool  myself." 

Fortunately  Garde  was  not  unaccustomed  to  these 
interruptions  on  the  part  of  the  knowing  bird,  so  that, 
although  he  always  made  her  pause  and  look  at  him, 
as  if  she  expected  to  see  how  he  did  it,  when  he  spoke, 
she  was  now  enabled  to  tell  Goody  her  troubles  with 
quite  as  much  rapidity  as  coherence. 

She  held  back  nothing.  She  told  all  about  her 
original  glimpse  of  Adam  in  the  Plymouth  procession, 


124  Hearts  of  Grace 

of  their  meeting,  her  immediate  regard  for  him,  then 
and  there,  the  long  fostering  of  her  affection,  and  the 
events  of  the  days  just  past.  This  done,  she  produced 
her  slip  of  paper,  OH  which  Adam  had  written  his 
mediocre  verse,  and  laid  it  before  the  wise  woman  to 
be  deciphered. 

Goody  read  the  lines  several  times.  "  How  old  are 
you  now,  my  dear  ?  "  she  asked,  and  then  she  added, 
"  It  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  your  worries  ;  it  is  only 
for  my  own  foolish  gratification  that  I  ask." 

"I  am  eighteen,"  said  Garde. 

"  Well,  I  should  have  been  puzzled  myself,  at  eight 
een,"  said  the  old  woman.  She  looked  into  vacancy, 
for  a  moment,  dwelling  on  some  fond  memory  that 
brought  her  sad  smile  to  her  withered  lips  again. 
"  But  you  need  not  be  worried.  He  loves  you,  dear, 
as  indeed  he  should,  but  for  some  reason  or  other  he 
believes  you  care  for  somebody  else,  and  he  is  therefore 
taking  himself  away.  Believing  as  he  does,  he  is  cer 
tainly  right,  as  well  as  brave,  in  going  away." 

"  But  I  don't  love — like  any  one  else,"  protested' 
Garde.  "  And  I  don't  see  how  or  why  he  ever  got 
such  an  idea  into  his  head.  He  doesn't  know  anybody 
that  I  know.  He  went  to  meeting  with  Mrs.  Phipps — 
Oh  !  oh — Mr.  Wainsworth  ! — He  does  know  Mr.  Wains- 
worth." 

"Yes,  dearie,  and  does  Mr.  Wainsworth  seem  to 
fancy  you,  or  anything  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"  And  Mr.  Wainsworth  told  us  he  had  seen  Adam, 
and  that  he  told  him  everything,"  said  Garde,  think 
ing  for  herself  and  musing  aloud.  "  Oh,  dear  me  !  " 

"Oh,  dear  me  ! "  said  Bex,  derisively. 


A  Kiss  Deferred.  125 

"  And  do  yon  know  where  your  Adam  is  going,  and 
when  ?  "  inquired  Goody.  "  Those  ought  to  be  your 
main  considerations  now." 

"Why,  to-day/'  answered  Garde.  "But  I  don't 
know  where,  or  anything  else  about  it.  What  shall  I 
do  ?  If  he  goes  away  like  that,  I  may  never  see  him 
again  ! " 

"Did  you  say  he  went  to  meeting  with  Good  wife 
Phipps  ?  » 

"Yes, — yes,  I  saw  him  myself." 

"  Then  you  can  be  almost  certain  that  he  is  off  some 
where  with  Captain  William  Phipps,  for  a  more  rest 
less,  sea-hankering  man  never  lived  and  remained  so 
good  as  Captain  Phipps." 

"  Oh,  I  might  have  thought  of  that ! " 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  able  to  think  of  something 
to  do  this  very  morning,"  said  Goody,  a  little,  pretty 
color  burning  up  in  her  wrinkled  cheeks.  "  It  is  still 
early,  and  you  have  good  stout  legs." 

Garde  suddenly  jumped  up  and  kissed  her. 

"  Good-by  ! "  she  said.  "  Oh,  thank  you,  thank 
you,  so  much  !  But — haven't  you  something  I  can 
take  to — to  Captain  Phipps  ?" 

Goody  immediately  supplied  her  with  a  small  pack 
age.  "  Take  him  this  tea,"  she  said.  "  No  sailor 
should  ever  go  to  sea  without  it." 

Garde  sped  away,  as  if  on  the  wings  of  impulse. 

"  She's  in  love  !  she's  in  love  !  "  screamed  the  jack 
daw,  hilariously.  As  she  ran,  Garde  could  hear  him 
clapping  his  wings  against  his  body,  in  noisy  applaud 
ing. 

Running   and  walking  alternately,  by  the  quieter 


126  Hearts  of  Grace 

streets  and  lanes,  meeting  no  one  on  her  way,  Garde 
finally  arrived  in  sight  of  the  ship-yard  belonging  to  Wil- 
lian  Phipps.  Her  first  impulsive  thought  had  by  now 
had  time  to  abate  somewhat  and  give  place  to  a  more 
sober  reflection.  Mistress  Merrill  began  to  wonder 
what  she  would  say,  if  she  did  manage  to  see  Adam 
Rust.  It  had  been  by  a  swift  inspiration,  almost  an 
instinct  of  a  maidenly  young  woman,  that  she  had 
provided  herself  with  an  excuse  for  racing  to  this  place. 
No  modest  girl  could  bear  the  thought  of  seeming  to 
run  after  a  man,  or  to  say  anything  bold  to  him,  or 
anything  calculated  to  show  that  she  held  herself  in 
any  way  other  than  proudly  aloof,  where  he  must  bring 
his  love,  if  he  would  sue  for  her  favor. 

She  thought  of  all  this  as  she  went.  She  also  began 
to  think  that  perhaps  Goody  Dune  might  be  mistaken. 
If  Adam  were  found  and  he  did  not  love  her  after  all, 
not  for  all  the  world  would  he  get  one  sign  from  her 
that  she  loved  him  or  cared  for  him  one  tiny  bit,  or 
cared  whether  he  went  or  remained. 

She  was  breathless,  rosy  as  a  cherry  and  excited. 
Her  hair  had  fallen  down  and  the  plaits  had  loosened. 
It  hung  about  her  face  and  nestled  against  her  creamy 
throat  like  strands  of  ebony,  richly  copper-plated.  Her 
dark  eyes  were  flashing  ;  her  lips  were  parted,  revealing 
her  teeth  like  little  white  soldiers  in  a  row.  As  she 
ran,  her  skirts  whipped  upward,  in  curves,  about  the 
roundest  and  trimmest  ankles  imaginable. 

She  now  observed  a  small  boat,  approaching  the 
landing.  Out  in  the  stream  the  sails  of  the  "  Captain 
Spencer  "  were  rising  like  clouds.  Garde  then  discov 
ered  the  figure  of  a  tall  man,  who  had  been  sitting  on  a 


A  Kiss  Deferred.  127 

heap  of  logs,  for  he  arose  and  went  toward  the  dory, 
which  had  evidently  come  from  the  ship  to  fetch  him. 
She  recognized  familiar  outlines  and  the  drag  of  the 
sword  which  the  man  was  wearing. 

"  Adam  !  "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  Adam,  wait  !  " 

But  she  was  still  too  far  away  to  be  heard.  Adam 
continued  leisurely  walking  toward  the  landing.  Then 
the  sailor  who  had  rowed  ashore  for  Kust,  saw  the  pic 
turesque  figure  coming  toward  them  so  swiftly,  and 
pointed  her  out  to  Adam. 

Kust  was  puzzled  for  a  moment.  Then  he  knew  it 
was  Garde.  His  heart  turned  a  double  somersault  in 
his  breast.  He  felt  himself  grow  red  to  the  tips  of  his 
ears.  He  walked  toward  the  girl  as  one  uncertain  of 
what  is  expected  of  him  next. 

Garde  stopped  running,  when  some  distance  away, 
and  came  on  more  slowly,  brushing  a  wisp  of  hair  from 
her  face.  Suddenly  afraid  of  what  she  had  done,  un 
certain  of  what  she  would  or  could  say,  to  explain  her 
presence  so  that  he  would  think  no  less  of  her  than  be 
fore,  she  was  glad  he  had  not  heard  her  call  out  his 
name,  but  she  was  tremendously  excited.  Her  eyes 
shone  like  brown  jewels.  Her  bosom  was  heaving 
rapidly. 

"  Why — good  morning,  Mistress  Merrill,"  said 
Adam. 

"Oh— it  is  you—Mr.  Kust!"  said  Garde,  in  the 
surprise  which  a  woman  can  feign  on  a  second's  notice. 
"  Why,  I  thought — why,  good  morning.  I  thought  I 
might  find  Captain  Phipps  here,  and  Goody  Dune 
wished  me  to  give  him  this  tea,  and  she  heard — she 
heard  he  was  going  away  this  morning." 


128  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Oh  !  thank  you,  very  much/'  said  Adam,  a  little 
thickly,  in  his  tremendous  excitement,  which  he  was 
endeavoring  to  restrain.  "  Goody  Dane  was  very 
thoughtful,  and  you  were  kind  to  come." 

"  But  Goody  didn't  tell  me  I  should  find  you  here," 
said  Garde,  truthfully  enough.  She  had  never  felt  so 
stirred  in  her  life.  But  outwardly  she  was  beginning 
to  be  calm.  "  You  told  Prudence  you  were  going 
away.  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  are  going  with  Cap 
tain  Phipps  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  morning,"  said  Adam. 

Then  there  was  a  silence  for  a  moment.  Garde 
hardly  knew  what  to  say  next.  If  she  should  make  the 
slightest  advance  and  he  should  receive  it  coldly,  or 
derisively,  or  without  understanding,  she  would  die  of 
mortification.  The  pause  became  dreadful  to  bear — to 
them  both. 

"I  got — Prudence  gave  me  the  brooch — from  His- 
paniola,"  Garde  stammered,  presently. 

Adam  saw  it.  It  was  rising  and  falling  like  a  little 
golden  ship,  on  her  bosom.  He  felt  himself  somewhat 
at  sea.  If  he  could  only  have  blurted  out  that  he  loved 
her — if  it  had  not  been  for  Wainsworth,  what  a  moment 
this  would  have  been  ! 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  he  said. 

Garde  felt  that  there  was  little  encouragement  in 
this  remark.  "  You  will  not  forget  to  give  the  tea  to 
Captain  Phipps,  will  you  ?"she  said.  "  I  think  I  must 
now  return." 

"I  wish  you  had  brought  this  tea  down  here  for 
me  !"  said  Rust  suddenly,  no  longer  answerable  to  his 
loyalty  to  Wainsworth. 


A  Kiss  Deferred.  129 

Garde  had  wished  he  would  say  these  very  words. 
She  had  rehearsed  the  answer  she  would  make  if  he  did. 
Her  heart,  had  it  been  a  bird  beating  its  wings,  could 
not  have  fluttered  more  wildly. 

' '  If  I  had  come  down  here  to  see  you,  it  would  only 
have  been  to  tell  you  that  you  have  made  some  mis 
take,"  she  said,  averting  her  gaze  from  his  and  looking 
on  the  ground. 

Adam  trembled,  uncontrollably,  violently.  She  saw 
it  in  his  hand. 

"  Do  you  mean "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Garde,  raising  her  eyes  to  his  frankly. 

"  Then  I  can  love  you  !  I  do  love  you  !  Ill  come 
back  here  and  marry  you,  sweetheart !  I  shall  love  you 
and  tell  you  I  love  you  and  love  you  ! "  he  burst  forth 
passionately.  "  My  little  Garde  !  my  love  !  my  sweet 
heart  ! — my  little  wife  that  I  shall  have  and  love  till  my 
heart  is  full !  " 

Garde  gasped  for  breath  in  the  whirlwind  of  his 
words,  that  swept  her  fairly  off  her  feet.  Her  hand 
had  been  on  a  post,  where  she  had  been  picking  away 
little  particles  of  bark.  Adam  took  it.  His  big  hand 
encompassed  it  all  about.  She  felt  his  soul  rush  to  his 
fingers,  to  meet  the  throbbing  of  her  own  emotions. 

"  Oh,  Adam  ! "  was  all  she  could  say  for  a  moment. 

"  Garde  ! "  he  replied,  "  my  Garde — my  love  !  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  about  it  before  ?  " 

"You — you  were  the  one,"  she  said,  somewhat  re 
gaining  her  footing.  "  You  were  going  away  without 
even  saying  good-by." 

"  I  thought " 

"Yes,  you  thought  such  silly  things,"  interrupted 
9 


130  Hearts  of  Grace 

Garde,  impulsively,  yet  joyfully.  "You  thought  I 
could  like  somebody  else,  and  that  is  why  you  were  go 
ing  away — without  even  asking.  And  I  don't  know 
why  you  ever  came  to  see  me  the  first  time  and  made 
me  name  my  cat  Standing-Panther,  if  you  were  going 
to  think  such  things  as  that." 

Adam  laughed.  It  was  a  sudden  bubbling  over  of 
his  spirits.  He  was  the  bright-eyed,  joyous  boy  again, 
all  at  once. 

"  Poor  Henry — poor  Henry  ! "  he  said,  with  irrepres 
sible  mirth  and  gladness.  "  But  he  never  loved  you  as 
I  love  you,  sweetheart !  He  couldn't !  I  love  you  so 
that  I  would  cut  down  an  army  to  get  you  and  run  away 
with  you  here  in  my  arms  though  all  the  demons  of 
earth  should  follow  I " 

"  Oh  but,  Adam — you  mustn't !"  said  Garde,  as  Rust 
was  about  to  demonstrate  the  ardor  of  which  he  had 
spoken. 

"  What,  sweetheart,  not  one  little  kiss  ?  "  he  said. 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not,  Adam,"  she  answered  him, 
blushing  prettily. 

"  Aren't  we  betrothed  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  have  not  said  I  will  marry  you,  have  I,  Adam  ?" 
she  said,  roguishly. 

"  But  you  shall,  sweetheart.  I  love  you  so  much 
that  you  can't  help  it  !  I  love  you  so  it  seems  as  if  I 
shall  explode  !  I  love  you,  dear  !  Do  you  hear  me  say 
it  ?  I  love  you  !  I  love  you,  Garde.  You  do  love  me, 
sweetheart — just  a  little  ?" 

"  Yes,  I — love  you  a  lit ,"  Garde  was  saying. 

"  A-d-a-m  R-u-s-t, — come — aboard  ! "  came  a  great 
voice  across  the  harbor,  from  the  brig  out  in  the  stream. 


A  Kiss  Deferred.  131 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  the  Capting's  calling/'  shouted 
the  sailor,  who  had  rowed  ashore  for  Bust. 

Adam  waved  him  a  dumb  reply.  "  Then  you  will 
give  me  one  little  kiss,  for  good-by,  sweetheart  ?  "  he 
begged. 

"  No — it's  too  soon,"  said  Garde.     "  Besides " 

"  But  I  am  going  away,"  interrupted  Adam.  "  And 
I  have  loved  you  seven  years  ! " 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  going  away  now — not  now,  when 
we  have  just  found  out  there  was  some  mistake  ?  "  said 
Garde. 

"  I  have  promised  to  go,  and  therefore  I  must,"  said 
Adam.  "  And  I  have  to  go  and  get  that  fortune  now, 
so  that  I  can  come  back  and  marry  you,  sweetheart !  I 
must  keep  my  promise  to  Captain  Phipps." 

"  But  you  won't  stay  away  for  seven  years  again,  will 
you,  Adam  ?"  inquired  Garde,  looking  at  him  wistfully 
and  candidly  now,  with  all  her  love  in  her  eyes.  "  If 
you  do "  she  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

"  No,  I  will  not,"  Adam  assured  her.  "  But  if  I  re 
mained  away  for  fifty  years,  I  should  love  you  and  love 
you  still.  And  will  you  love  me,  dearest,  as  long  as 
that?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  love  you  longer  than  that,"  answered 
Garde.  She  was  not  impulsive  now,  but  her  manner 
was  sweetly  earnest,  therefore  it  was  more  beautiful 
than  all  her  other  beauty.  "  I  shall  always  love  you 
now,  Adam,"  she  added.  "  It  seems  to  me  as  if  I  always 
had." 

William  Phipps  roared  across  the  water  once  again. 

Adam's  less  tumultuous,  more  enduring  love,  came 
into  his  eyes.  He  thought  the  caress  of  her  long  look 


132  Hearts  of  Grace 

was  sweeter  than  the  kiss  Garde  might  have  given 
him. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go,"  he  murmured.  "God  bless 
you  and  keep  you,  sweetheart.  Good-by,  dear  Garde. " 

"  Good-by,  Adam,"  said  Garde.  "  I  shall  pray  for 
your  swift  return." 

He  swept  her  little  hand  to  his  lips  for  a  second  and 
then  strode  away. 

Garde  placed  her  other  hand  over  the  tingling  fingers 
he  had  kissed,  as  if  to  prevent  the  caress  from  escaping. 

As  he  went  out  over  the  water,  she  waved  her  tiny 
handkerchief  to  him,  and  permitted  two  warm  tears  to 
trickle  down  her  face. 

Adam's  memory  of  her  was  of  her  pretty,  brown  fig 
ure,  seen  from  afar,  and  the  look  in  her  eyes,  which  he 
felt  that  no  space  could  dim  in  his  vision. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

OVERTURES   FROM  THE   ENEMY. 

AGAINST  his  long  journey  across  the  Atlantic,  David 
Donner  made  preparations  that  consumed  no  small 
amount  of  time.  A  sufficient  quantity  of  money  had 
been  subscribed  by  the  patriots  who  were  so  concerned 
for  the  charter,  but  this  was  one  of  the  least  important 
details  of  Donner's  contemplated  venture.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  Puritans  had  acquired  the  arts  of  procrasti 
nation  patiently  and  laboriously,  for  this  had  proved 
their  most  efficient  weapon  of  defense,  in  those  days  of 
struggling  against  the  Stuart  dynasty,  and  therefore 
the  cream  of  the  putting-off  science  permeated  the  very 
being  of  David  Donner.  He  nursed  his  preparations 
till  they  grew  and  flourished. 

Two  ships  bound  for  England  sailed  without  him. 
He  was  quite  calm  as  he  contemplated  further  events 
of  a  like  nature.  At  length  his  fellow-citizens,  eager 
to  have  him  at  his  work,  expostulated  with  him,  mildly. 
His  answer  astounded  them  all.  He  said  he  had  reasons 
for  believing  that  Edward  Randolph  was  beginning  to 
feel  inclined  toward  more  kindliness  of  spirit  with 
regard  to  the  Colony  and  the  men  who  had  built  it 
there  in  the  wilderness.  Randolph  had  made  overtures 
of  friendship  to  him.  He  appeared  to  be  a  more 

133 


134  Hearts  of  Grace 

agreeable  person  than  any  one  of  them  had  heretofore 
believed. 

Randolph,  indeed,  was  fairly  wooing  the  old  man's 
regard.  He  had  begun  by  nodding,  pleasantly,  when 
he  and  Donner  passed  in  the  streets.  He  had  followed 
this  up  by  halting  at  Donner's  gate  and  admiring  his 
flowers,  for  which  the  old  man  had  a  secret  passion. 

"  If  I  could  dissuade  him  from  his  evil  purposes," 
said  David  to  his  colleagues,  "if  I  could  win  his  favor 
for  the  charter,  and  so  enlist  his  services  with  us, 
instead  of  against  us,  I  should  be  of  vastly  more  service 
to  Massachusetts  by  remaining  here  than  I  could  be  if 
I  were  to  go  to  the  Court  of  Charles.  * 

Nevertheless  the  governors  held  the  promise  of  David 
Donner  sacred.  He  would  go  as  agreed,  unless  he 
could  shortly  furnish  something  substantial  as  a  result 
of  this  coy  flirtation  of  Randolph's  to  gain  his  good 
opinion. 

It  had  been  observed  that  Randolph  had  been  a  reg 
ular  attendant  at  South  Church  for  several  Sundays. 
This  new  departure  of  his  had  been  at  first  regarded 
with  suspicion.  Coupled  with  his  attention  to  David, 
however,  it  began  to  look  honest  and  therefore  hope 
ful. 

Grandfather  Donner  was  pothering  about  in  his 
garden,  on  one  of  these  mornings,  when  Randolph 
paused  at  the  gate,  as  he  had  frequently  done,  and 
asked  leave  of  the  old  man  to  present  him  with  a  small 
rose  tree,  having  even  then  a  beautiful  rose  upon  it,  to 
plant  in  some  sunny  corner  of  the  place. 

No  olive  branch  of  peace  could  have  opened  Donner's 
heart  more  effectually  than  did  this  simple  matter. 


Overtures  from  the  Enemy.          135 

"  Come  in,  friend,"  said  he.     "  Come  in." 

"  It  has  always  seemed  a  pity  to  me,"  said  Randolph, 
"  that  men  whose  political  ideas  may  happen  to  differ 
should  not  be  friendly  in  other  particulars,  with  no 
more  thought  of  their  daily  affairs  than  they  would 
have  of  the  clothing  upon  their  backs." 

"Just  so,"  said  David,  who  thought  the  time  pro 
pitious  for  missionary  work  at  home,  "but  I  should 
think,  however,  that  with  your  youth  and  earnestness 
you  might  have  a  great  future  before  you,  as  one  of  us, 
working  as  we  work,  hoping  as  we  hope,  and  helping  to 
build  this  new  commonwealth  on  a  rock  of  solidity  and 
unity." 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  the  heavy-browed 
visitor.  "  But  how  would  a  man  proceed  to  accomplish 
a  result  so  remote  from  one  like  myself  ?  " 

"Would  you  plant  it  here,  or  next  to  the  wall?" 
said  David,  holding  the  rose-tree  in  his  hand  and  look 
ing  about  for  a  suitable  place  in  which  to  tuck  its 
roots. 

"  I  would  plant  it  here,  by  all  means,"  said  Ran 
dolph. 

Donner  began  to  dig  in  the  earth  with  a  knife. 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "I  should  say  you  would  do  best  to 
get  married  and  adopt  our  ways,  and  labor  with  us  to 
maintain  our  government  and  rights." 

Randolph's  deep-set  eyes  gleamed  with  satisfaction. 
He  said  :  "  You  may  not  be  surprised  to  know  that  I 
have  had  such  an  ambition  as  this.  Could  I  look  for 
your  encouragement  and  support,  if  I  entertained  the 
idea  of  marrying,  here  among  your  people,  and  making 
my  life  with  your  lives  ?  " 


136  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,  friend.  I  would  be  the  first  to 
welcome  the  attachment  of  your  heart  and  your  inter 
ests  among  us.  And  have  you  looked  with  favor  upon 
some  one  of  our  young  women  ?  " 

Randolph  noted  with  pleasure  that  the  rose-tree  was 
firmly  planted  and  the  earth  about  it  patted  and  pressed 
down  almost  affectionately.  "It  would  hardly  be  fair, " 
he  said,  "  to  give  one  flower,  only  to  ask  for  another/' 

6 '  Would  you  have  some  of  my  poor  flowers  ? "  said 
the  old  man,  innocently.  "  Why  you  shall,  then,  any 
thing  you  like." 

"  I  spoke  of  my  hopes  that  I  have  dared  to  entertain/' 
said  the  visitor.  "  I  referred  to  the  fairest  flower  in  all 
Boston,  indeed  in  all  Massachusetts. " 

Donner  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  He  rose  to  his 
feet,  having  been  down  on  one  knee  to  plant  the  rose. 
"  Have  I  understood  you  aright  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  has  slipped  from  my  tongue  unguardedly/'  said 
the  younger  man.  "  Your  encouragement«of  my  hopes 
led  me  to  this  confidence.  But  I  feel  I  can  speak  to 
you  almost  as  if  you  were  in  the  attitude  of  a  father. 
I  can  come  to  you  where  I  could  not  come  to  any  other 
man  in  Boston.  I  have  seen  Mistress  Merrill,  in  the 
simplicity  and  piety  of  her  life,  and  this  has  made  me 
wish  to  become  one  of  you,  working  with  you  and  living 
your  lives.  Can  you  not  encourage  me  so  far  as  this  ?  " 

David  Donner  was  all  but  rendered  speechless.  Such 
a  thought  as  that  Garde  had  grown  up  and  blossomed  had 
never  entered  his  mind.  But  not  only  to  find  that  this 
was  so,  but  also  to  have  Edward  Randolph — the  enemy 
— desiring  this  alliance,  this  was  more  than  he  could 
think  of,  for  a  moment.  He  had  egged  the  man  on, 


Overtures  from  the  Enemy.  137 

while  he  had  some  vague  idea  of  some  other  young 
woman  in  mind — some  other  man's  daughter,  or  grand 
daughter, — he  had  been  ready  to  abet  such  an  arrange 
ment,  gladly,  for  the  good  of  the  colony,  but  to  find 
that  it  was  Garde  that  Randolph  wanted — this  was 
indeed  a  bolt  from  a  clear  sky. 

"Friend,"  he  said,  finally,  "I  shall  have  to  think 
this  over." 

"I  feared  it  would  sound  abrupt,"  said  the  visitor, 
"yet  it  is  not  a  sudden  fancy  with  me.  It  has  been 
my  constant  thought  for  many  weeks.  I  have  even 
foreseen  difficulties.  I  have  worked  so  many  years 
apparently  against  the  interests  most  dear  to  the 
colonists." 

Donner  nodded  at  him,  for  this  sounded  frank.  But 
the  old  man's  thoughts  were  afield,  wandering,  for  the 
proposition  came  home  to  him  with  tremendous  signifi 
cance. 

tf  But,"  resumed  Randolph,  "  any  man  can  conceive 
that  an  agent  must  do,  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  that 
which  he  honestly  believes  to  be  his  duty,  howsoever 
unpleasant  the  task  imposed  upon  him  may  finally  ap 
pear." 

"True,"  said  David,  still  vaguely.' 

"  I  have  done  my  work  as  well  as  I  could,"  the  man 
went  on.  "I  have  accumulated  matter  of  vast  signifi 
cance.  I  am  almost  sorry  that  I  have  done  so  thoroughly 
well,  the  task  appointed  me,  and  still  all  this  work 
might  make  me  the  better  fitted  for  citizenship  among 
you,  if  I  follow  out  your  suggestion." 

Donner  was  not  insensible  of  the  threat  which  this 
artful  speech  implied,  the  threat  that  all  this  ac- 


138  Hearts  of  Grace 

cumulated  matter  and  knowledge  would  be  used  against 
the  colony  and  the  charter,  if  this  man  were  not  made 
one  of  their  number.  But  Garde  was  not  to  be  lightly 
weighed  in  the  balance.  Randolph's  frankness  partially 
disarmed  the  old  man  ;  and  the  life  of  the  charter,  he 
felt,  was  the  life  of  their  independence,  their  manhood, 
their  very  being.  The  tiny  roots  and  tendrils  of  Ameri 
can  patriotism  grew  from  the  very  hearts  of  those 
early  fathers  of  liberty. 

"  This  is  a  matter  which  would  much  concern 
Mistress  Merrill,"  said  Donner.  "I  made  the  error  of 
trying  to  coerce  her  mother.  I  shall  never  coerce 
Garde." 

et  I  trust  not,"  replied  his  guest.  "  And  yet  I  hope 
you  will  think  upon  the  matter  and  mayhap  speak  to 
Mistress  Merrill  in  this  regard,  for  although  I  am  in  a 
conflict,  'twixt  my  duty  to  my  King  and  the  high  re 
gard  which  I  have  been  constrained  to  place  with  you 
and  your  people,  through  Mistress  Merrill,  yet  I  fear 
I  am  eager  to  be  remiss  with  Charles,  rather  than  a 
traitor  to  my  own  heart." 

"  I  will  think  upon  it/'  said  David,  slowly. 

Randolph  thanked  him,  spoke  of  the  rose  again  and 
went  his  way.  He  was  a  gardener  himself,  and  having 
planted  his  seed,  knew  enough  not  to  dig  it  up  to  see  if 
it  had  yet  begun  to  sprout. 

David  Donner  sat  down  to  think,  not  of  Garde  and  not 
of  all  that  Randolph's  visit  signified,  but  of  Garde's 
mother  and  his  harshness  when  her  heart  had  burgeoned 
with  aspirations  for  itself,  and  of  the  pain  and  wretched 
ness  he  had  brought  to  all  concerned.  He  thought  of 
the  mad  little  elopement  into  which  he  had  driven  his 


Overtures  from  the  Enemy.          139 

daughter,  which  had  ended  so  disastrously  to  the  honest 
but  poverty-overtaken  father  of  her  child.  Then  he 
thought  of  the  home-coming,  the  birth  of  Garde  and 
the  death  of  the  forlorn  little  mother.  He  could  hear 
again  her  faint  words  of  forgiveness  ;  he  could  see  again 
her  wan  smile  on  her  faded  lips  ;  he  could  still  feel  the 
weak,  white  hands  that  raised  to  slip  themselves  about 
his  neck  and  which,  when  he  had  put  them  down,  he 
folded  on  her  breast,  still  forever. 

"  I  have  never  coerced  little  Garde,"  he  said  aloud, 
"never,  Kuth,  never/' 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LOVE'S  INVITING  LIGHT. 

SOMETHING  had  happened  to  Mistress  Garde  Merrill, 
even  as  far  back  as  upon  that  first  Sunday  at  Meeting, 
when  Adam  had  been  beneath  the  South  Church  roof, 
where  she  could  see  him  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 
Love  had  left  its  sign-manual  upon  her.  She  had 
suddenly  become  illumined  from  within,  by  her  heart's 
emotions,  so  that  she  appeared  to  shine  from  afar,  in 
the  somewhat  gray  and  nnjoyous  lives  of  the  Puritan 
young  men  about  her. 

Thus  it  was  that,  in  addition  to  Randolph,  who  at 
tended  the  service  solely  for  the  purpose  of  feasting  his 
eyes  upon  her  beauty,  there  was  always  Wainsworth, 
who  heard  nothing  of  the  Meeting's  cheerless  proceed 
ings.  And  there  was  also  young  Piety  Tootbaker,  who 
knew  not  at  which  shrine  he  was  worshiping,  from 
Sunday  to  Sunday. 

Garde  was  half  the  time  at  her  uncle,  John  Soam's. 
This  fact  increased  the  facilities  for  the  young  men  to 
seek  her  presence,  for  the  Soams  were  life-loving  people, 
in  spite  of  their  Puritan  conformity  to  the  somewhat 
melancholy  and  smileless  practices  of  the  day.  More 
over,  John  Soam,  who  thought  himself  something  of  a 
farmer,  as  well  as  a  carpenter  and  Jack-of -all-genius, 
not  infrequently  impressed  the  wonld-be  suitors  into 
140 


Love's  Inviting  Light.  141 

various  duties  with  which  he  was  amusing  himself  about 
his  place. 

Piety  Tootbaker  was  a  fat  young  man  of  modest  wealth 
in  his  own  right,  his  father  having  died  leaving  Piety 
his  sole  heir.  He  was  a  heavy  lump,  who  came  often 
and  said  next  to  nothing,  so  that  his  intentions  might 
have  lain  anywhere  between  Prudence,  Garde  and  the 
family  cow,  for  aught  that  any  one  could  ascertain 
definitely.  He  was  John  Soam's  easiest  prey,  when  the 
farmer  or  carpenter,  as  the  case  might  be,  was  seized 
with  a  desire  to  work. 

Randolph  contented  himself  with  courting  David 
Donner.  He  felt  no  small  contempt  for  Wainsworth 
and  Tootbaker,  whose  movements  he  was  stealthily 
watching.  He  had  placed  his  reliance  on  power  always, 
and  with  complete  success.  The  present  was  no  time 
to  alter  his  usual  tactics. 

Grandfather  Donner,  left  alone  with  his  thoughts, 
arrived  at  no  conclusions  rashly.  He  went  systematic 
ally  to  work  on  his  friends,  to  get  from  each  an  ex 
pression  of  belief  that  Randolph,  if  he  would  become 
one  of  them,  working  for  instead  of  against  them, 
would  be  a  valuable  factor  for  the  preservation  of  the 
charter.  This  opinion  he  readily  secured,  especially  as 
he  gave  no  hint,  as  yet,  of  the  method  by  which  Ran 
dolph's  conversion  was  finally  to  be  accomplished. 
Indeed  so  much  promise  could  his  friends  discern  in  the 
securing  of  an  end  so  commendable,  that  David  Donner 
began  to  justify  himself  in  the  thought  of  aiding  this 
matter  with  all  reasonable  power.  He  encouraged 
the  growth  of  a  better  opinion  of  Randolph,  in  his  own 
mind.  He  argued  the  man's  case  with  his  friends,  with 


142  Hearts  of  Grace 

fanatical  insistence,  until  they  perforce  admitted  virtues 
in  Randolph's  disposition,  heretofore  quite  overlooked. 

Thus  he  wrought  upon  himself  until,  mentally,  he 
accepted  the  ex-enemy  as  his  grandson-in-law,  to  whom 
he  was  willing  to  extend  his  welcome,  if  not  actually  his 
love.  With  this  development  of  the  case,  his  dislike 
for  the  journey  to  England  increased,  while,  far  from 
abating,  his  concern  for  the  charter  grew  the  more 
active,  as  he  dreamed  of  preserving  it  here  at  his  own 
home. 

His  state  of  mind  was  not  a  thing  at  which  he  arrived 
immaturely.  The  proposition  had  come  to  him  with 
something  of  a  shock.  He  had  never  contemplated 
Garde's  marriage  at  all.  She  was  still  a  child  to  him, 
or  at  least,  she  had  been,  up  to  the  moment  when 
Randolph  spoke.  Not  the  least  difficult  of  his  tasks 
with  himself  had  been  that  of  compelling  himself  to 
admit  that  Garde  had  actually  arrived  at  the  threshold 
of  womanhood — that  she  was  marriageable.  This  hav 
ing  been  finally  accomplished,  Randolph  had  half  won 
his  battle. 

As  long  as  Garde  would  presently  desire  to  marry,  then 
why  not  Randolph,  especially  as  such  an  alliance  would 
be  of  such  tremendous  political  significance  ?  Yet  he 
continued  still  to  tell  himself  that  Ruth's  child  should 
not  be  coerced  in  any  direction  whither  she  was  not 
counseled  by  her  heart  and  her  own  inclination  to  pro 
ceed.  He  could  see  no  reason,  however,  why  she  should 
entertain  any  notions  which  might  be  at  variance  with 
his  own.  Nevertheless  it  was  not  without  emotion 
that  he  finally  summoned  Garde  to  the  interview  in 
which  he  meant  to  broach  the  proposition. 


Love's  Inviting  Light.  143 

"My  child,"  he  began,  "I  have  desired  to  have  a 
talk  with  you,  which  bears  upon  matters  of  some 
importance  to  you  and  of  vast  significance  to  the 
state." 

"Yes,  Grandther,"  said  Garde  dutifully,  and  she  sat 
down  with  her  knitting.  "  I  suppose  you  are  going  to 
England  at  last." 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  said  David.  "  The  need 
for  something  to  be  done  is  great.  No  loyal  soul  in  all 
our  commonwealth  could  wish  for  aught  but  a  chance 
to  serve  this  colony  in  her  present  straits.  Have  you 
great  love  for  Massachusetts  and  her  people,  Garde  ?  " 

"  Is  not  love  a  passion  ?"  she  answered,  without  rais 
ing  her  eyes  from  her  work. 

"  Love  of  one's  country  is  not  an  unseemly  passion," 
said  her  grandfather. 

"  Then  I  have  for  Massachusetts  a  seemly  regard," 
said  Mistress  Merrill,  who  had  given  all  her  love  else 
where. 

"And  could  you  sacrifice  somewhat  of  your  personal 
thoughts,  and  mayhap  desires,  for  the  colony  ?  Could 
you  be  a  little  patriot  in  the  hour  of  your  country's 
need,  my  child  ?  "  asked  the  old  man,  his  look  intent 
upon  her  face. 

Garde  thought  he  doubtless  referred  to  his  projected 
trip  abroad.  She  was  inclined  to  believe  that  she  could 
endure  the  personal  sacrifice  of  living  with  the  Soams 
during  his  absence. 

"  I  should  try  to  be  dutiful,"  she  answered. 

David  Donner  felt  his  old  heart  knocking  on  his  ribs. 
It  was  a  moment  of  much  intensity  for  him. 

"  You  have  always  been  a  dutiful  daughter,"  he  said. 


144  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Have  you  ever  had  a  thought,  child,  of  the  woman 
hood  come  upon  you,  and  that  mayhap  you  will  one  day 
become  a  wife  now,  and  be  as  other  women,  a  child  no 
longer  ?  " 

"  Any  young  woman  would  think  on  these  matters 
by  nature/'  replied  Garde,  sagely.  "  But  I  have 
thought  of  nothing  to  occur  soon,  as  to  such  a  matter." 

"  No,  no,  to  be  sure,"  said  David,  nervously.  "  Yet 
I  have  desired  to  speak  with  you  upon  this  subject,  for 
an  estimable  young  man  has  asked  me  to  do  this  in  his 
favor." 

Garde,  who  had  believed  his  thought  anywhere  but 
here,  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  She  saw  the  old  man's 
face  drawn  and  eagex,  his  eyes  bright  with  the  flame  of 
incipient  fanaticism.  She  was  wholly  at  a  loss  to  un 
derstand  him. 

"  A  young  man  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Some  one  has 
spoken  to  you  thus  of  me  ? "  For  a  moment  her 
thought  ran  wildly  to  Adam.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
he  had  returned  and  spoken  to  Grandther  Donner 
already  ? 

Donner  cleared  his  throat.  He  was  pale,  for  he  had 
not  come  to  this  moment  without  some  violence  to  his 
own  conscience. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  a  little  huskily,  "  a  great  oppor 
tunity  is  offered  to  you  to  render  a  vast  service  to  your 
country — to  Massachusetts.  Edward  Randolph,  who 
has  long  been  against  us,  has  come  to  me  with  an  ear 
nest  desire  to  become  one  of  us,  working  with  us  and  not 
against  us  longer,  and  asking  your  hand  in  marriage, 
to  cement  the  unity  of  his  interests  and  hopes  with 
ours.  He  appears  to  be  an  earnest,  sincere  man,  at  last 


Love's  Inviting  Light.  145 

heartily  in  sympathy  with  our  struggles,  and  worthy  of 
good  citizenship  among  us.  I  have  told  him  I  would 
speak  to  you  upon  this  matter,  Garde,  and  take  him 
your  answer."  He  paused  and  mopped  his  forehead 
with  his  handkerchief. 

Garde  could  hardly  believe  her  ears.  She  looked  at 
her  grandfather  oddly.  The  color  left  her  cheeks,  for 
a  moment,  only  to  rush  back  in  a  flood  at  thought  of 
Adam  and  the  betrothal,  to  her  so  sacred.  She  had  no 
thought  whatsoever,  during  that  interval,  of  the  colony, 
or  of  patriotism,  or  of  anything  save  what  this  proposi 
tion  meant  to  Adam  and  to  her.  As  for  Randolph,  she 
knew  him  only  by  sight,  and  her  instinct  had  prompted 
her  to  shun  him,  if  not  to  loathe  him.  Her  impulse 
was  to  start  to  her  feet  and  cry  out  a  shrill  repudiation 
of  the  man's  offer.  But  the  sight  of  Donner's  face 
awed  her.  She  had  never  seen  him  look  like  this  be 
fore.  She  remained  seated.  She  resumed  her  knit 
ting. 

"  But  I  do  not  even  know  Mr.  Randolph/'  she  said, 
mildly.  "  I  have  not  been  taught  to  trust  or  to  respect 
him." 

"But  if  we  have  done  him  injustice,"  said  David, 
eagerly,  "  surely  we  must  welcome  an  opportunity  to 
correct  it.  He  has  worked  against  us,  it  is  true.  He 
could  overthrow  our  charter,  but  he  chooses  rather  to 
become  one  of  our  number.  If  I  go  abroad,  I  may  fail 
at  the  Court  of  Charles.  If  we  can  save  our  charter 
here  at  home,  it  will  be  the  grandest  thing  we  have  ever 
done.  And  you  can  do  it,  my  child — you  can  do  this 
great  thing  !  You  will,  I  feel  you  will  ! " 

Garde  was  a  little  terrified.  The  old  man's  anxiety 
10 


146  Hearts  of  Grace 

was  almost  dreadful  to  see.  Had  he  been  laying  bare 
a  steel  crow-bar  in  his  nature,  she  could  not  have  com 
prehended  more  thoroughly  the  stubbornness  which  she 
felt  opposition  to  him  now  would  discover  in  her  grand 
father. 

"  This  comes  to  me  so  suddenly,"  she  said,  "  that  I 
cannot  at  once  think  upon  it." 

"  But  you  can  think  what  it  means  to  the  colony  ! " 
said  the  man,  passionately.  "  You  would  wish  to  save 
the  charter  !  Mr.  Randolph  has  become  my  friend.  I 
have  found  that  my  former  estimate  of  his  character 
was  false.  He  can  take  away  our  charter  in  a  moment 
— his  work  is  done.  But  he  also  can  save  us  !  He 
shall  save  us  !  Are  you  a  daughter  of  this  common 
wealth — a  daughter  of  a  patriot  ?  You  can  save  the 
charter.  Oh,  what  a  glorious  honor  !  You  will  let  me 
take  your  answer  back  ?  " 

Garde's  color  had  gone  again,  not  to  return.  This 
was  a  moment  that  frightened  her  heart.  No  one  could 
have  lived  there  as  she  had  done  and  not  be  saturated 
with  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  colonists,  not  be  trem 
bling  for  the  government,  the  independence,  the  man 
hood  they  had  builded  up  on  those  stern  rocks.  In 
her  first  baby  utterances  she  had  lisped  the  word 
"  Charter."  For  ten  years  their  charter  had  been  their 
Holy  Grail  to  those  American  men  and  women  of  Mas 
sachusetts.  The  air  was  pregnant  with  patriotism. 
The  Charter  had  hung  trembling  in  the  balance  month 
after  month,  ever  since  Cromwell's  son  had  abdicated 
the  English  throne  and  Charles  had  sat  in  power  once 
again.  Garde  could  not  have  been  the  true  daughter 
of  America  she  was,  had  she  not  thrilled  first  with  the 


Love's  Inviting  Light.  147 

possibilities  of  this  fateful  moment,  before  her  soul  shiv 
ered  at  the  price  she  would  have  to  pay  to  perform  this 
splendid-seeming  deed. 

Sense  of  duty  had  been  bred  and  ingrained  in  the 
children  of  that  hour.  It  held  a  sway  well-nigh  in 
credible  in  youthful  minds.  It  fell  athwart  Garde's 
thought  with  appalling  weight.  And  yet  her  soul 
leaped  to  Adam's  arms  for  protection,  as  her  heart 
bounded  to  his  with  love.  She  felt  as  if  she  could 
crash  through  the  window  and  run  away,  to  the  woods, 
— anywhere,  to  escape  even  the  contemplation  of  this 
thing.  Had  it  not  been  for  her  knitting  she  felt  she 
must  have  done  something  dreadful.  As  it  was  she 
seemed  to  tie  herself  into  the  pattern — the  wilder  self 
— and  so  to  gain  a  sense  of  calmness. 

"I  could  hardly  answer  this  so  soon,"  she  said. 
"  Haste  first  leaves  no  time  for  thought  after." 

"  Thought,  child  ?  "  demanded  the  old  man,  on  whom 
her  calmness  acted  as  her  mother's  had  before  her. 
"Can  you  wish  to  hesitate,  when  the  whole  state 
stands  breathless  for  your  answer  ?  " 

"  And  did  you  hold  me  so  lightly  that  you  said/  Yes,' 
the  moment  this  was  presented  to  you  ?  "  said  Garde. 
"  Grandther,  I  was  but  a  young  girl  this  morning. 
"What  has  a  moment  done  to  make  me  such  a  woman  as 
this?" 

"  But  our  charter — our  government — our  liberty, 
child  ! "  cried  David,  raising  his  two  shaking  hands 
above  his  head.  "  You  can  save  them  all !  " 

"  And  is  it  so  light  a  matter  for  me  to  become  the 
mother  of  our  liberty  ?  "  said  Garde,  on  whom  the  spirit 
of  wisdom  had  strangely  descended,  no  doubt  from 


148  Hearts  of  Grace 

Goody  Dune.  "  Grandther,  you  would  wish  to  think 
of  this  yourself." 

She  had  risen  from  her  seat.  She  faced  her  grand 
father  and  he  saw  her  eyes  nearly  on  a  level  with  his 
own.  A  look  of  her  mother,  sad,  appealing,  forgiving, 
played  intangibly  across  her  face.  The  old  man's  look 
seemed  to  follow  its  transit.  He  passed  his  nervous 
fingers  along  his  brow.  The  fire  died  away  in  his  eyes. 

"  Then  think  it  over,"  he  said,  huskily.  "  Think  it 
over,  my  child,  think  it  over.  I  will  not  coerce  your 
decision.  No,  I'll  not  coerce  her,  Kuth,  no,  no,  111 
not  ! " 

He  moved  to  the  door,  as  one  in  a  dream,  and  left  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

GARDE'S  LONELY  VIGIL. 

DAVID  DONNER  was  not  to  be  deterred  for  long,  by 
the  shadow  of  a  memory  which  he  had  seen  flit  like  a 
ghost  of  his  past,  across  Garde's  features.  He  was  ar 
riving  at  that  age  when  a  man's  memory  is  not  so  strong 
as  in  years  past  and  when  the  events  of  the  day  at  hand 
seem  therefore  the  more  important.  He  fretted  under 
his  promise  to  go  abroad,  desiring  this  to  be  abrogated 
by  his  fellow-colonists,  and  this  could  only  be  done 
when  he  should  persuade  them  that  the  charter  would 
be  saved,  or  at  least  his  country  better  served,  by  his 
remaining  where  he  was.  He  had  not  as  yet  spoken  to 
his  colleagues  of  Randolph's  proposition.  He  was  wait 
ing  for  Garde  to  give  him  her  answer. 

The  girl  watched  the  old  man  narrowly,  to  see  how 
long  she  could  wait,  for  her  answer  was  no  more  ready 
after  a  week  than  it  had  been  on  the  first  day.  This 
was  not  entirely  because  her  affections  were  placed  else 
where.  She  was  a  little  patriot,  otherwise  her  love  for 
Adam  would  have  prompted  her  reply  at  once,  and 
from  hot  lips.  She  was  undergoing  a  genuine  struggle 
with  herself.  If  it  were  true  that  she  could  save  the 
charter,  should  she  permit  her  own  happiness  or  Adam's 
to  stand  before  the  happiness  and  rights  of  all  the 
Massachusetts  people  ?  Had  not  Adam  himself  written 

149 


Hearts  of  Grace 

that  when  there  are  three  and  only  two  could  be  happy, 
the  one,  representing  the  minority,  should  suffer  sor 
row,  that  the  greater  number  might  preserve  their  joy  ? 
Then,  when  she  and  Adam  were  only  two,  how  much 
more  they  should  endure  sorrow,  when  all  the  people  of 
that  colony  weighed  against  them  in  the  question. 

No,  it  was  not  a  simple  matter  in  which  her  own  de 
sires  could  speak  out  above  the  clamor  of  duty.  And 
yet,  she  could  not  feel  the  truth  of  Kandolph's  position 
and  promise.  Suppose  he  had  not  the  ability,  so  to 
save  the  charter  as  her  grandfather  believed  he  would. 
Suppose,  having  the  power,  he  should  prove  dishonest, 
when  once  he  had  won  his  desire.  What  was  there  in 
a  wife  to  tie  him  to  his  obligation  ?  If  politics  had 
prompted  him  to  go  so  far,  would  they  not  continue  to 
prompt  him  further,  after  the  marriage  had  given  him 
his  way  ?  To  sacrifice  herself  and  Adam  was  to  Garde 
a  mighty  thing.  She  was  capable  of  any  heroism,  but 
her  mind  and  her  nature  exacted  that  it  be  not  specious. 
No  travail  of  motherhood  ever  gave  a  more  acute  or 
prolonged  agony  than  was  Garde's  portion  as  she  strove 
to  give  birth  to  a  wise  and  right  resolution. 

Her  grandfather,  in  the  meantime,  waxed  more  and 
more  impatient.  It  had  been  his  habit  from  early  man 
hood  to  have  his  own  way.  In  avoiding  precisely  the 
difficulties  into  which  he  had  fallen  with  Garde's  mother, 
he  felt  that  he  was  on  the  safe  side  in  his  promise  not 
to  coerce  his  grandchild.  This  gave  him  the  greater 
latitude  in  which  to  bring  pressure  upon  her  from  what 
he  conceived  to  be  another  standpoint.  Yet  that  re 
pression  of  his  feelings  and  passions  which  he  had 
practised  for  long  among  the  Puritans,  made  him  more 


Garde's  Lonely  Vigil.  151 

patient  with  Garde's  indecision  than  would  otherwise 
have  been  the  case.  He  became  childishly  eager,  more 
than  harshly  insistent,  in  this  frame  of  mind.  He 
coaxed  her  many  times  in  a  day,  to  see  what  her  bravery 
and  loyalty  could  do. 

Christmas  and  New  Year  were  long  past,  and  still 
Garde  had  made  no  decision.  In  the  spring,  when  she 
could  make  no  more  excuses  for  delaying,  she  told  her 
grandfather  how  gladly  she  would  comply  with  his 
wishes,  if  only  she  could  know,  absolutely,  that  Ran 
dolph  would  keep  faith  with  the  colonists  and  secure 
them  their  charter  against  all  need  for  anxiety.  This 
was  her  honest  word.  It  came  from  her  heart  as  if 
every  word  had  been  jagged,  leaving  her  wounded  and 
all  but  ill. 

"  Let  Mr.  Randolph  prove  that  he  will  work  for  our 
good  with  the  King,"  she  said.  "  Let  him  secure  us 
but  one  year  of  ease  from  this  constant  worry — let  him 
show  us  a  year  of  the  favor  he  can  win  from  Charles, 
and  then  I  shall  be  content.  This  is  not  much  that  I 
ask.  If  his  heart  is  so  set  upon  me  as  he  says,  surely 
he  could  wait  this  time  and  do  these  things.  A  true 
regard  could  wait  for  as  many  years  as  Jacob  served  for 
Rachel." 

With  this  decision,  which  he  regarded  as  a  binding 
promise,  and  which  he  represented  to  Randolph  as  a 
betrothal,  David  Donner  had  to  be  content.  Randolph 
could  not,  without  betraying  intended  perfidy,  object 
to  conditions  so  wisely  conceived.  Argument  was  pre 
cluded.  Grimly  shutting  his  jaws,  the  man  consented 
to  the  arrangement,  for  else  he  must  have  abandoned 
his  quest  altogether. 


152  Hearts  of  Grace 

As  the  months  wore  on,  he  went  regularly  to  South 
Church,  there  to  sit  out  the  service,  which  he  detested 
like  poison,  for  the  purpose  of  fixing  his  eyes  upon 
Garde,  as  if  he  had  been  a  beauty-vulture,  only  to  be 
satisfied  by  gazing  upon  her  until  he  was  all  but  self- 
hypnotized.  As  for  Garde,  conscious  as  she  was  that 
the  man  thus  stared  in  her  direction,  she  never  so  much 
as  once  gave  his  eyes  an  answering  glance.  She  did 
not  love  him  ;  there  should  never  be  any  pretense, 
come  what  might,  that  she  did.  Her  thoughts  and  her 
heart  beats  were  true  to  Adam,  and  so  should  remain 
to  the  end. 

David  Donner  told  his  colleagues  in  triumph  of  what 
he  had  done,  of  the  answer  Garde  had  made  and  of  the 
hope  they  had  for  the  future.  He  had  justified  himself 
in  remaining  in  Boston. 

The  measure  of  the  power  wielded,  even  at  the  throne 
of  England,  by  Edward  Randolph,  could  never  have 
been  estimated  in  Massachusetts,  but  month  after 
month  slipped  away  while  the  charter  remained  in 
tact  and  the  men  of  that  anxious  colony  breathed  with 
a  sense  of  relief  which  none  had  felt  before,  in  nearly 
a  score  of  years. 

Garde,  with  what  hope  her  year's  respite  inspired, 
began  her  lonely  wait  and  watch  for  Adam's  return. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  NIGHT  ATTACK. 

THE  night  was  a  thing  of  perfection  on  the  sea. 
The  moon  rode  aloft  and  its  light  danced  merrily  on 
the  tops  of  the  waves.  A  smart  breeze  pouted  the 
sails  of  the  "  Captain  Spencer, "  till  she  plowed  her 
way  like  a  skimming  albatross  through  the  phospor- 
escence  of  the  southern  ocean. 

On  deck,  Adam,  William  Phipps,  the  beef-eaters, 
the  mate  and  a  jovial  boatswain,  held  high  carnival 
together.  They  were  nearing  their  goal,  after  a  run 
which  would  have  awakened  some  sort  of  a  rollicking 
devil  in  a  deacon.  Captain  Phipps  had  felt  a  spell  of 
bubbling  coming  upon  him  for  days.  It  always  did, 
the  moment  he  dropped  Boston  from  sight,  over  the 
serrated  edge  of  the  riotous  Atlantic.  Therefore  he 
had  broken  off  the  neck  of  a  bottle  of  good,  red  juice, 
which  had  lain  for  a  year  in  the  hold  of  the  brig,  and 
this  liquefied  comfort  had  circulated  generously. 

The  beef-eaters,  arm  in  arm,  spraddled  about  the 
sloping  deck  in  a  dance  of  which  Terpsichore  would 
never  have  been  guilty,  even  in  her  A  B  C's  of  the 
art.  The  boatswain,  blowing  lustily  upon  a  tin  pipe, 
encouraged  their  efforts  with  shrill  music  of  his  own 
composing,  the  one  virtue  of  which  was  that  it  seemed 
to  be  endless. 

But  even  boatswains  tire;  and  at  length,  with  a 
final,  wailing  note,  the  measure  lost  itself  amongst 


154  Hearts  of  Grace. 

the  sails  and  shrouds.  The  beef-eaters  subsided,  puff 
ing  vigorously,  upon  a  coil  of  rope  in  the  shelter  of 
the  weather  rail,  and  Adam  cleared  his  throat  for  a 
song. 

"  In  the  Northern  sea  I  loved  a  maid, 

As  cold  as  a  polar  bear, 
But  of  taking  cold  I  was  not  afraid — 
Sing  too  rel  le  roo, 
And  the  wine  is  red — 
For  a  kiss  is  a  kiss,  most  anywhere, 
When  a  man's  heart  goes  to  his  head. 

Ho  !  the  heart  of  a  man  is  an  onion,  boys, 

An  onion,  boys,  with  a  shedding  skin. 
And  it  never  gets  old,  for  you  off  with  its  hide, 

When  you  meet  a  new  love,  and  its  fresh  within  f 

In  the  southern  sea  I  loved  a  lass, 

As  warm  as  a  day  in  June ; 
And  oh  that  a  summer  should  ever  pass — 

Sing  too  rel  le  roo. 

And  the  wine  is  red — 

For  my  summer,  my  lads,  was  gone  too  soon, 
With  a  man's  heart  gone  to  his  head. 

Ho,  the  heart  of  a  man,  etc. 

In  the  Western  seas  I  loved  a  miss, 
As  shy  as  the  sharks  that  swim  ; 
And  it's  duties  we  owe  to  the  art  of  the  kiss — 
Sing  too  rel  le  roo, 
And  the  wine  is  red — 

If  a  maiden  so  shy  should  be  took  with  a  whim, 
And  a  man's  heart  gone  to  his  head. 

Ho,  the  heart  of  a  man  is  an  onion,  boys, 
An  onion,  boys,  with  a  shedding  skin. 

And  it  never  grows  old,  for  you  off  with  its  hide, 
When  you  meet  a  new  love,  and  it's  fresh  within  I* 


A  Night  Attack.  155 

There  were  more  of  these  verses;  one  to  fit  every 
sea,  of  which  there  be  more  than  seven,  as  the  song 
proved.  The  beef-eaters  and  Captain  Phipps  joined 
in  the  chorus;  for  the  boatswain,  having  caught  the 
lilt  of  the  song,  gave  it  a  rare  flavor  of  music  with  his 
piping. 

At  the  wheel,  the  second  mate  had  jammed  a  marlin 
spike  between  the  spokes,  to  hold  the  brig  on  the  wind, 
and  sitting  cozily  down  had  gone  fast  asleep.  The 
lookout  aloft,  absorbed  in  the  singing,  relaxed  his 
watchfulness,  and  beat  time  with  a  heavy  fist  on  the 
edge  of  the  crow's  nest.  Time  passed,  the  songs 
ceased,  talk  died  away.  With  strange  whisperings, 
the  waves  slipped  by,  and  the  soft  wind  hummed 
sleepily  through  the  rigging. 

A  cry  cut  through  the  night.  A  cry  of  such  in 
tensity  of  alarm,  that,  on  the  instant,  there  was  a 
scurrying  of  feet  and  a  rush  to  the  rail.  A  few  cable 
lengths  away,  a  black  craft,  with  never  a  light,  came 
sizzling  the  brine  in  her  speed,  and  bore  down  upon 
the  "  Spencer  "  with  dire  intent. 

The  boatswain's  pipe  shrilled  its  wild  warning, 
while  Adam  and  Phipps  bounded  towards  the  armory, 
yelling  the  word  that  a  pirate  was  upon  them.  Like 
some  incantation  of  marvelous  potency,  their  cries 
summoned  men,  like  crowding  gnomes,  from  hatches, 
companion-ways  and  fo 'castle. 

The  brig's  deck  swarmed  with  sailors  running  aim 
lessly  hither  and  thither;  shouting,  stumbling,  swear 
ing,  till  Phipps  and  Rust  reappeared  from  the  direc 
tion  of  the  armory,  with  their  arms  full  of  cutlasses, 
pistols  and  muskets,  and  threw  them  with  a  great 


156  Hearts  of  Grace. 

clatter  upon  the  planking.  As  they  scrambled  to  arm 
themselves,  there  was  a  crunch,  the  brig  shuddered 
beneath  their  feet,  and  grappling-hooks  hurtled 
through  the  air  from  over  the  pirate's  gunwale,  and 
fell  clanking  across  the  rail.  The  raiders  pulled  the 
lines  taut,  and  the  vessels  were  bound  firmly  to 
gether. 

A  black  cascade  of  men  came  leaping  from  the  high 
deck  of  the  buccaneer  and  landed  heavily  upon  the 
"  Spencer. "  Their  pistols  blazed  yellow  exclamation 
points  of  fire,  as  they  stumbled  to  their  feet.  Then, 
with  clash  of  steel  on  steel,  Eust,  Phipps,  and  a  half 
score  of  the  sailors,  rushed  upon  the  invaders,  and  a 
mad  melee  ensued. 

Rust  was  conscious  of  a  few  things  about  him  in  the 
confusion.  He  thought  how  cold  the  naked  blades 
looked,  slashing  in  the  moonlight ;  above  the  yells  and 
curses  he  heard  the  slapping  of  a  sail,  sounding  a 
weird  alarm;  he  felt  the  appalling  strength  of  the 
big  rascal,  who  was  cutting  at  him  with  that  brute 
force  and  disregard  for  skill  which  is  so  deadly  to 
engage.  He  thought  the  fellow  would  surely  slice 
his  sabre  in  two,  and  lost  no  time  in  feinting.  The 
brute  of  a  buccaneer  lurched  forward,  intent  on  send 
ing  his  blade  through  Adam's  body  with  one  mighty 
sweep;  when,  with  the  speed  of  light,  a  moonbeam 
seemed  to  circle  through  the  air,  and  bury  itself  with 
a  sharp  slapping  sound  in  his  hairy  neck.  He  dropped 
his  sword;  spun  half  about,  with  his  head  hanging 
sideways,  and  went  down. 

Adam  rushed  to  the  taffrail.  The  pirate  ship  was 
straining  at  the  ropes  on  the  grappling  irons  which 


A  Night  Attack.  157 

held  the  two  hulls  together.  Furiously  he  slashed  at 
the  taut  lines,  till  they  parted.  The  black  craft 
drifted  away,  as  a  wide  lane  of  water  grew  between 
the  two  vessels.  From  the  decks  of  the  sea-robber, 
the  buccaneers,  seeing  their  prey  slipping  from  them, 
yelled  a  discordant  chorus  of  curses. 

Back  into  the  fight  he  darted.  The  din  was  greater 
than  ever,  as  wounded  men,  blind  with  rage,  rushed 
at  one  another  with  mad  fury.  Pistoling  a  creature 
who  came  running  upon  him,  Adam  heaved  his  body 
overboard,  and  was  soon  in  the  thick  of  the  melee 
once  more. 

The  sailors  of  the  "  Spencer  "  had  had  somewhat 
the  best  of  the  conflict.  Less  than  a  score  of  the 
pirates  had  been  able  to  leap  aboard  before  the  vessels 
drifted  apart;  and  their  bawlings  for  help  had  been 
rendered  useless  by  Adam's  prompt  action  in  cutting 
the  lines.  They,  however,  were  well-versed  in  fight 
ing,  whereas  the  crew  of  the  brig  were  merely  rough- 
and-tumble  sons  of  Cain,  whose  willing  rage  was  their 
principal  accouterment.  They  went  at  their  adver 
saries  hammer  and  tongs.  They  wrestled  with  some, 
hacked  at  others,  swore  at  all.  Phipps,  like  the  sturdy 
woodsman  from  Maine  that  he  was,  hewed  his  way 
from  one  group  to  another,  shouting  hoarsely  to 
hearten  his  men.  The  beef-eaters,  as  inseparable  as 
when  they  were  dancing  in  the  moonlight  a  few  hours 
before,  always  chose  one  man  between  them;  and 
peeled  him  to  a  horrid  core,  as  he  rushed  upon  their 
sharpened  weapons. 

Despite  the  losses  on  either  side,  the  scene  was  still 
one  of  mad  activity,  for  the  robbers  not  already  done 


158  Hearts  of  Grace. 

for,  had  backed  against  the  masts,  the  capstan,  or  the 
rail,  and  were  fighting  with  the  fury  born  of  despera 
tion.  Over  the  reddened  decks  wounded  creatures 
crawled,  whining  and  gory.  Swords  and  pistols  lay 
everywhere.  One  dying  brute  sprawled  with  arms 
extended,  his  index  finger  crooking,  and  straighten 
ing,  and  crooking  again ;  as  though  he  were  beckoning 
death  to  come  more  quickly. 

The  sails  began  to  slap  at  the  masts,  as  the  brig 
swung  into  the  wind,  and  stopped  in  stays.  Croaked 
curses  from  the  pirate  craft,  which  was  again  draw 
ing  near,  gave  warning  that  swift  action  was  im 
perative.  Fired  by  the  same  thought,  Adam  and 
Phipps  ran  together  to  the  brig's  gun.  Rust  had 
filled  his  pouch  with  loose  powder.  The  cannon  was 
already  loaded.  Swiftly  he  primed  the  vent,  and  he 
and  Phipps,  with  the  combined  strength  of  two  giants, 
slewed  the  piece  about  till  a  ball  from  the  pirate  could 
have  been  tossed  into  its  yawning  muzzle. 

The  robber  craft  missed  her  mark,  and  came  up 
in  stays  just  as  the  "  Spencer  "  got  again  on  the 
wind.  Her  bows  were  almost  in  touch  with  the  brig. 
At  once  Adam  saw  that  if  the  gun  was  fired  at  its 
present  elevation  it  would  fail  to  sweep  the  deck  of 
the  enemy.  With  a  sudden  impulse  he  leaped  astride 
its  smooth  brass  nose  and  bore  it  down,  just  as  the 
cook,  who  had  been  watching  the  gun,  rushed  from 
the  galley  with  a  shovelful  of  blazing  coals,  and  turned 
it  upside  down  over  the  primed  vent.  There  was  a 
deafening  roar.  The  concussion  shook  the  ship.  The 
brass  piece  leaped  backwards,  like  a  bucking  horse,  and 
Rust  went  sprawling  on  the  deck,  for  the  sharp  recoil 


A  Night  Attack. 


159 


had  left  him  with  no  support.  The  shot  tore  a  hole, 
the  size  of  a  hogshead,  in  the  starboard  bow  of  the 
pirate  vessel,  and  squarely  on  the  water-line.  As  she 
came  about  in  the  wind,  the  sea  rushed  into  her  hold 
in  a  torrent. 

A  dreadful  silence  ensued.  Then  a  moan  from  a 
dying  wretch  upon  the  "  Spencer's  "  deck  seemed  to 
touch  into  being  a  bedlam  of  yells  from  the  doomed 
vessel;  where  the  murderous  crew,  though  armed  to 
the  teeth,  yet  found  themselves  sinking  defenseless 
to  their  death. 

With  the  cannon 's  smoke  still  about  her  like  a 
shroud,  she  drifted  away,  rising  and  falling  sullenly 
to  the  seas;  till  at  length  her  stern  rose  high,  and 
with  a  strange,  sucking  sound,  that  rose  above  the 
shrieks  of  the  wretches  upon  her  deck,  she  disap 
peared. 

Meantime  the  "  Spencer  "  was  scudding  bravely 
away,  adown  the  boulevard  of  silver  which  the  moon 
had  flung  across  the  restless  sea. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  GLINT   OF  TREASURE. 

THE  brig  ' '  Captain  Spencer/'  came  duly  to  her  goal  at 
the  green  Bahamas.  What  with  wounds  received  from 
the  pirates,  who  had  called  so  unceremoniously,  and 
from  sea-sickness,  which  they  always  had,  the  beef 
eaters  were  glad  of  the  sight  of  land.  Phipps  and  Rnst 
were  filled  with  rejoicings  by  reason  of  the  dreams  they 
had  of  thrusting  a  naked  arm  apiece  into  the  sea  and 
fetching  up  handfuls  of  gold  with  which  to  return  to 
two  sweet  women  in  Boston. 

All  hands  were  presently  doomed  to  disappointment. 
Phipps  learned  that  his  treasure-ship  was  indeed  a  fact, 
but  that  she  was  small,  both  in  tonnage  and  her  burden 
of  Spanish  coins,  that  she  lay  in  many  fathoms  of 
water  and  that,  indeed,  she  was  scarcely  worth  serious 
attention. 

Phipps  was,  however,  a  popular  man  at  these  bits  of 
jeweled  land  in  the  emerald  sea.  He  had  traded  there 
on  several  occasions,  making  friends  always.  Thus  it 
came  that  a  hobbling  old  salt,  whom  he  had  befriended 
in  a  scrimmage,  consoled  him  with  the  information  of 
a  large  treasure-ship,  sunk  somewhere  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  Hispaniola.  He  resolved  at  once  to  pursue 
this  matter  to  the  end,  for  which  purpose  the  "  Captain 
Spencer  "  would  be  wholly  inadequate,  as  the  Spanish 
160 


The  Glint  of  Treasure.  161 

Main  was  as  filled  with  pirates  as  the  sky  may  be  of 
buzzards  over  dying  caravans. 

With  the  approval  of  the  entire  party,  the  brig  was 
now  headed  for  England,  Adam  and  Phipps  feeling 
confident  of  their  ability  to  secure  a  larger  ship  for 
their  enterprise. 

On  familiar  soil  when  the  "  Spencer"  at  length 
came  to  anchor,  off  the  tower  of  London,  in  the 
Thames,  Adam  had  little  difficulty  in  finding  a  market 
for  the  brig.  With  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  in  his 
pockets,  William  Phipps,  under  Adam's  tuition,  blos 
somed  out  as  a  gentleman  of  no  little  personal  attrac 
tiveness.  Adam,  as  one  born  to  the  purple,  donned  a 
handsome  attire  and  swaggered  with  all  the  elegance 
of  a  prince. 

He  was  soon  in  the  midst  of  his  former  acquaintances, 
with  one  of  whom  he  fought  a  duel  at  the  end  of  the 
first  week,  requiring  his  vanquished  foe,  who  was  only 
sufficiently  wounded  to  be  satisfied,  to  kneel  in  humil 
ity  and  to  wipe  the  victor's  blade  clean  of  his  own  red 
juice,  on  the  hem  of  his  coat. 

Rust  until  now  had  never  had  occasion  to  regret  the 
disfavor  in  which  Charles  Stuart  held  him,  since  a  certain 
distinguished  lady  had  declared  the  "  Sachem"  to  be 
vastly  more  entertaining  than  his  Majesty  with  ready 
narratives.  However,  he  was  undismayed,  for  with 
James,  fated  so  soon  to  be  king,  he  was  amazingly 
friendly. 

William  Phipps,  for  his  part,  needed  but  one  intro 
duction   and    no   recommendation.     Above  all  things 
temporal,  James  reveled  in  naval  adventure.     Blunt, 
gallant  Captain  Phipps  appealed  to  him  instantly.  The 
ii 


162  Hearts  of  Grace 

tale  of  the  treasure-ship  set  him  aflame  with  eagerness 
to  go  with  this  adventurous  company  to  the  western 
Indies,  where  he  could  readily  picture  himself,  Phipps 
and  Adam  fighting  their  way  to  the  rotting  strongholds 
of  the  Spanish  galleon,  sunk  there  half  a  century  before. 

With  an  alacrity  which  was  of  a  highly  complimentary 
character  to  Phipps  and  Kust,  the  Prince  procured  a 
fine  vessel,  the  "  Rose-Algier,"  with  a  crew  of  ninety- 
five  men  and  an  armament  of  eighteen  guns,  and  gave 
her  into  the  trust  of  his  friends  for  their  enterprise. 
It  was  agreed  that  inasmuch  as  he  thus  found  the  ship 
and  the  expenses  of  the  venture,  he  should  have  ninety 
per  cent,  of  whatsoever  treasure  should  be  recovered, 
Phipps  declaring  for  himself  and  Adam  how  contented 
they  would  be  with  the  remaining  one-tenth. 

Late  in  the  year,  which  was  1684,  the  "Rose- 
Algier  "  bore  away  for  Hispaniola,  Phipps,  Adam,  and 
the  faithful  beef -eaters,  whom  seasickness  nor  peril 
could  drive  from  Adam's  side,  soon  beginning  to  wonder 
what  manner  of  crew  it  was  with  which  they  had 
shipped.  A  few  weeks  later,  King  Charles  the  Second 
died.  James  ascended  the  throne.  Thus  the  treasure- 
seekers  were  backed  by  the  English  monarch  and  his 
government. 

A  sunken  ship  has  frequently  proved  to  be  a  small 
thing,  and  the  ocean  a  large  one,  to  the  seeker,  eager  for 
its  cargo.  The  "  Rose-Algier  "  dipped  into  all  manner 
of  harbors  and  her  master  asked  all  manner  of  people 
all  manner  of  questions,  to  no  avail.  The  months 
slipped  by,  in  this  tedious  occupation,  the  crew  grew 
weary  of  a  voyage  so  profitless  and  so  entirely  unprom 
ising. 


The  Glint  of  Treasure.  163 

The  grumblings  of  mutiny  have  a  way  of  keeping  be 
low  decks,  where  they  simmer  volcanically.  Neverthe 
less  the  beef-eaters  heard  something  of  the  discontent 
in  the  fo 'castle,  where  the  ruffians  of  the  crew  were  for 
seizing  the  vessel,  running  up  the  black  flag  and  turn 
ing  pirate  forthwith.  The  Rose  was  a  swift,  great  bird 
upon  the  waves,  she  was  armed  to  the  teeth,  she  was 
well  provisioned.  What  more  could  be  desired  for  buc 
caneering  ?  And  piracy  paid  its  disciples  handsomely. 
Spain  and  France,  particularly,  had  a  hundred  ar 
gosies  in  constant  flight  between  the  West  Indies  and 
home.  Gold  was  the  commonest  burden  of  all.  Your 
pirate  was  a  dare-devil,  whose  life  was  reputed  to  be  one 
long  round  of  adventure,  drinking  and  looting.  All 
pirates  either  died  happy  or  hung,  and  anything  was 
better  than  this  pothering  about  in  a  good  ship,  seeking 
for  treasure  that  was  sunk  admittedly,  while  millions  of 
treasure  was  afloat  and  nearly  all  to  be  had  for  the  ask 
ing.  With  precious  few  exceptions  the  crew  agreed 
that  this  was  true  enough  for  every  practical  purpose. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MUTINY. 

FORTUNATELY  mutinies  frequently  come  to  a  head 
prematurely.  On  the  "  Rose  "  a  jealousy  hatched  be 
tween  rival  factions  of  the  plotters,  so  that  before  they 
were  any  of  them  in  actual  readiness,  one  faction,  in 
order  to  be  ahead  of  and  therefore  in  command  over 
the  other,  rushed  upon  the  quarter-deck  one  night 
and  made  a  sudden  descent  on  Captain  Phipps,  who 
happened  for  the  moment  to  be  there  alone. 

Phipps  became  renowned  for  his  presence  of  mind 
and  courage.  On  this  occasion  he  promptly  knocked 
down  three  or  four  of  the  ruffians,  and  then  with  a 
loaded  revolver  and  a  handy  marlin  spike,  he  awed  the 
others  into  submission  before  the  alarm  had  even  time 
to  spread.  The  malefactors  being  summarily  placed  in 
irons  and  thrown  into  the  hold,  the  insurrection  below 
decks  retired  into  the  dark  corners,  to  knit  itself  anew 
into  shape. 

The  sailors  now  recognized  the  necessity  for  uniting 
their  forces.  Moreover,,  the  faction  which  had  been 
less  precipitate,  gained  the  confidence  of  those  half- 
coward,  half-demon  followers,  or  human  jackals,  who 
were  willing  to  urge  the  lions  of  the  fo'castle  on  to 
strike  the  blows  of  death,  content  if  they  could  then 
sneak  upon  the  scene  for  a  feast  of  remains.  Thus  a 
164 


Mutiny.  165 

better  plan  was  laid,  while  the  mutineers  dissembled 
and  lulled  even  the  suspicious  Phipps  into  a  sense  of  se 
curity  that  he  had  not  possessed  before  the  overt  out 
break,  which  he  had  been  able  to  quell  single-handed. 

The  plotters  found  no  opportunity  of  effecting  their 
designs  for  several  weeks.  At  length,  however,  Phipps 
steered  his  vessel  into  a  tiny  harbor,  bitten  by  the  sea 
into  the  side  of  a  small,  uninhabited  island,  which  was 
even  minus  a  name.  This  he  did  for  the  purpose  of 
reshipping  the  stores,  in  the  hold,  a  recent  storm  having 
shifted  this  cargo  until  the  "Eose"  listed  to  port 
dangerously,  and  leaked. 

The  crew,  in  silence  and  obediently  enough,  con 
structed  a  bridge  to  shore  and  carried  the  stores  to 
land,  heaping  them  up  in  piles,  on  the  beach. 

The  unlading  being  accomplished,  the  crew  desired 
permission  to  rest  in  the  shade  of  the  near-by  woods. 
This  was  granted.  Once  in  retirement  here,  they  con 
ceived  a  plan  without  delay  whereby  the  ship  should 
fall  into  their  hands  that  night. 

Already  they  had  managed  to  purloin  a  complement 
of  arms.  They  had  knives,  a  few  pistols,  hatchets  and 
several  cutlasses.  The  stores  being  ashore,  the  ship 
was  at  their  mercy.  Their  plan  was  simple  enough. 
They  would  remain  away  from  the  shore  until  seven 
o'clock,  when  they  would  proceed  to  the  ship  in  a 
body,  overpower  Phipps,  Eust,  the  beef-eaters  and  the 
few  other  faithful  souls  on  board,  seize  the  "  Eose  " 
and  leave  her  captain  and  his  friends  on  the  island,  to 
starve.  There  was  but  one  element  lacking — the 
ship's  carpenter.  The  "  Eose  "  having  sprung  a  leak, 
in  the  storm,  was  regarded  by  the  sailors  as  no  longer 


166  Hearts  of  Grace 

seaworthy,  until  the  carpenter  should  put  her  right. 
He  therefore  became  a  necessary  adjunct  to  their 
numbers. 

The  carpenter,  on  being  summoned  to  appear  among 
them  by  the  crew,  listened  to  their  plan  with  horror. 
However,  he  was  not  a  coward  and  he  had  his  wits 
about  him.  He  nodded  as  if  in  approval  of  the  plan, 
the  more  readily,  perhaps,  as  he  was  threatened  with 
death  if  he  dared  refuse  to  become  one  of  the  murder 
ous  gang.  Then  he  informed  them  that  some  of  his 
tools  he  would  much  require,  to  further  the  plot. 

He  was  sent  aboard  the  ship,  with  a  guard  beside 
him,  who  had  undertaken  to  see  that  he  permitted  no 
leakage  of  the  crew's  little  game  into  the  ears  of  the 
Captain.  However,  this  carpenter  was  a  man  of  re 
sources.  He  was  suddenly  overpowered  by  illness,  on 
which  pretense  he  went  below.  Then,  breaking  into  a 
run,  he  came  to  the  Captain's  cabin,  where  Adam  was 
singing  the  song  of  his  loves.  Bidding  Rust  to  con 
tinue,  as  if  nothing  was  happening,  he  swiftly  com 
municated  his  news  to  "William  Phipps. 

"  Go  back  at  once  and  pretend  to  assist  in  their  dev 
iltry/'  commanded  Phipps.  "  Make  no  sign  of  any 
thing,  save  compliance  with  their  wishes,  and  leave  the 
rest  to  me." 

The  carpenter  rejoined  his  guard  so  soon  that  they 
were  entirely  satisfied.  They  conveyed  him  ashore,  with 
his  tools,  and  joining  their  mates  again,  waited  with 
what  patience  they  could  muster,  for  the  fateful  hour 
of  seven  to  arrive. 

Phipps  had  now  two  hours  in  which  to  prepare  to 
defend  the  ship.  Unfortunately  some  of  the  guns  had 


Mutiny.  167 

been  landed  with  the  stores.  Adam  volunteered  to 
draw  the  loads  from  these,  and  this  he  accomplished, 
with  highly  satisfactory  speed.  But  it  would  have 
been  the  work  of  hours  to  re-transfer  the  stores  to  the 
hold,  hence  they  were  left  on  shore  to  themselves. 

With  close  on  ninety  armed,  desperate  brutes  against 
them,  the  handful  of  men  on  the  "Rose"  were  hardly 
in  an  enviable  position.  The  first  thing  they  did  was 
to  remove  the  bridge  which  had  been  constructed  be 
tween  the  ship  and  the  shore.  The  remaining  guns  on 
board  were  then  dragged  and  slewed  around  till  they 
covered  the  approach  from  the  woods,  by  which  the 
mutineers  would  be  obliged  to  come.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  done,  then,  but  to  wait. 

The  crew  were  not  disappointing.  They  appeared 
duly,  their  savagery  whetted  to  a  fine  edge  by  the 
burly  ruffian  who  had  assumed  command  of  their  force. 
Phipps  had  prepared  his  speech.  He  hailed  the  men, 
in  his  big,  gruff  voice  and  commanded  them  to  halt 
where  they  were,  on  pain  of  instant  annihilation. 

"  Go  near  the  stores,"  he  cried,  "  and  I  will  blow 
you  in  splatters  against  those  trees  ! " 

The  cowed  scoundrels  edged  back  toward  the  woods. 
All  the  muttered  threats  of  their  leader,  of  what  he 
would  do  if  they  refused  to  charge,  were  empty  to  the 
wretches  who  could  look  into  the  chasm-like  mouths 
of  a  dozen  guns.  There  courage  oozed  out  of  their 
veins.  They  were  already  defeated. 

Phipps,  aware  that  a  similar  number  of  dummies 
would  be  equally  dangerous,  now,  had  his  faithful  fol 
lowers  run  out  the  bridge  again  and  bring  aboard  the 
stores,  without  which  it  would  have  been  madness  to 


i68  Hearts  of  Grace 

sail.  This  work  consumed  no  small  amount  of  time. 
But  it  was  finally  concluded. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Phipps,  when  the  situation  was 
all  in  his  favor,  "  I  shall  pull  up  anchor  and  leave  you 
rogues  to  the  fate  you  had  prepared  for  me.  You  can 
stay  here  and  starve  and  rot !  " 

This  brought  the  mutineers  to  tears,  and  to  pleading 
on  their  knees.  They  were  willing  to  come  to  any 
nameable  terms,  if  only  he  would  spare  them  this  ter 
rible  fate.  They  threw  down  their  arms,  in  token  of 
absolute  surrender,  begging  quarter  of  any  description. 

Inasmuch  as  so  large  a  vessel  could  not  have  been 
sailed  without  a  crew,  Phipps  received  them  back,  the 
ring-leaders  in  chains,  and  doubled  the  vigor  of  his 
mastery. 

"  But,  Adam,"  he  said,  "  it's  no  use  with  these 
scoundrels.  They  will  drive  me  back  to  England  yet, 
with  none  of  the  treasure." 

Distrustful  of  the  brutes  he  had  between  decks, 
Phipps  now  sailed  for  Jamaica,  where  he  quickly  dis 
charged  nearly  every  man  Jack  of  his  mutinous  crew 
and  took  on  a  new  lot  of  sailors.  This  was  not  a  matter 
of  a  few  days,  it  required  nearly  a  fortnight  of  time, 
Phipps  being  exceedingly  particular  as  to  the  men  he 
selected.  In  the  meantime  two  things  occurred  which 
gave  no  little  anxiety  to  the  treasure-seeking  captain. 
Rust  fell  ill,  with  an  attack  of  tropical  fever,  and  a 
letter  arrived  from  Goodwife  Phipps  in  which  she 
begged  to  know  if  her  lord  and  master  were  still  alive, 
and  if  so,  would  he  not  speedily  return  to  Boston  and 
give  no  further  heed  to  fortune's  beckoning. 

William  Phipps  had  seen  men  sicken  and  die  in  these 


Mutiny.  169 

latitudes.  Adam,  attended  faithfully  by  the  beef 
eaters,  took  the  fever  lightly,  as  he  seemed  to  take 
everything  of  life.  Nevertheless  he  was  weak,  when 
the  heat  had  somewhat  abated  in  his  body,  and  in  no 
fit  condition  to  remain  in  the  tropics. 

"  Adam,"  said  the  Captain,  gravely,  having  schooled 
himself  for  a  day  and  night  together  for  this  moment, 
"  I  have  about  concluded  that  the  '  Rose'  is  no  longer 
fit  for  this  service.  I  shall  return  to  Hispaniola,  but 
unless  I  shall  make  out  the  galleon  in  a  few  weeks,  I 
shall  sail  again  to  England,  for  a  newer  ship." 

"All  right,"  said  Adam.  "I  shall  be  ready  this 
afternoon." 

"Well,"  said  Phipps,  hemming  and  hawing,  "the 
fact  is,  Adam,  you  are  quite  unfit  to  remain  about  these 
islands.  Besides,  I  should  be  glad  of  a  messenger  to 
send  back  to  Mrs.  Phipps  in  Boston.  I  would  suggest, 
therefore,  that  you  return  thither,  on  a  frigate,  sailing 
to-morrow  morning,  and  if  it  chance  that  I  go  to  Eng 
land  and  again  return  to  Hispaniola,  you  could  meet 
me  here  and  help  me  to  find  the  treasure." 

Rust  seemed  to  hesitate  before  making  his  reply. 
He  was  sure  there  was  a  treasure  for  him  in  Boston, 
but  he  had  begun  to  have  his  doubts  as  to  the  sunken, 
or  any  other  sort  of  available,  gold  in  the  Spanish  Main. 
Yet  he  did  not  wish  to  appear  eager  to  abandon  the 
quest,  and  his  heart  was  above  all  else  loyal  to  Phipps. 

"  If  I  should,  by  great  good  fortune,  discover  the 
treasure,"  continued  the  Captain,  "you  shall  suffer  no 
loss  for  your  absence,  for  your  services  have  been  ten 
times  over  rendered  already." 

Much  as  he  was  affected  by  the  friendship  which 


Hearts  of  Grace 

prompted  Phipps  to  assure  him  of  this,  Adam  was  not 
in  the  least  concerned  with  thoughts  of  the  treasure, 
nor  influenced  by  this  generous  plan  which  his  friend 
had  formulated.  But  being  a  reasonable  being,  in  some 
directions,  and  being  perhaps  unreasonably  inclined  in 
others,  as  for  instance,  toward  Massachusetts,  he  saw 
the  wisdom  of  the  Captain's  arrangements,  and  there 
fore  bade  his  friend  an  affectionate  farewell,  on  the 
following  day,  and  sailed  for  the  north,  with  the  beef 
eaters  close  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
GARDE'S  EXTREMITY. 

HAD  prayers  been  able  to  reach  him  and  summon 
him  back  to  Boston,  Adam  would  have  been  there  long 
before  the  fever  overtook  him  at  Jamaica.  Garde, 
more  alone  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life,  had  ap 
pealed  to  the  stars,  to  the  wind,  to  the  tides  of  the  sea, 
to  convey  her  yearnings  to  Adam  and  to  bid  him  hasten 
to  her  side.  She  was  alone  because  she,  only,  distrusted 
Randolph.  She  was  alone  because  she  felt  no  longer 
the  slightest  companionship  with  her  grandfather,  be 
cause  even  Wainsworth  and  Tootbaker  respected  the 
provisional  betrothal  she  had  made  with  Randolph  and 
because  not  to  Prudence  nor  even  to  Goody  Dune  had 
she  felt  she  could  confide  her  cares  and  the  breaking  of 
her  heart,  under  the  present  painful  circumstances. 

Her  distrust  of  Randolph  had  grown,  despite  the  fact 
that,  in  a  measure,  the  threats  against  the  charter  had 
ceased  and  a  pseudo  peace  contented  the  patriots  with 
the  thought  that  their  difficulties  had  been  finally  rem 
edied  by  the  alliance  to  which  they  all  now  looked 
forward  with  abnormal  interest  and  confidence. 

Garde  had  maintained  her  right  of  immunity  from 
the  attentions  of  Randolph,  consistently  and  stead 
fastly.  She  had  never  given  him  the  single  glance,  at 
Meeting,  or  elsewhere,  for  which  he  was  becoming 

171 


1 72  Hearts  of  Grace 

crazed.  The  light  of  malice  that  burned  in  his  eyes 
was  a  thing  that  Garde  felt,  occultly.  It  was  a  threat 
to  break  her  will,  some  day  ;  it  was  tigerish  in  its  animal 
hunger.  No  creature  of  prey  ever  lay  in  wait  for  its 
victim  more  ready  to  pounce,  to  overpower  and  to  drag 
away  to  its  den  the  coveted  object  of  its  greed  and 
passion. 

But  the  months  had  winged  heavily  away  on  their 
somber-colored  pinions,  and  the  moment  for  which 
Garde  had  hoped,  when  she  set  the  one  year's  time  of 
probation  had  never  come— the  moment  of  Adam's  re 
turn.  The  second  Christmas,  so  joyless  with  the  Puri 
tans,  was  far  off,  with  the  other  departed  days  of 
winter.  The  snow  had  melted ;  the  tender  shoots  of 
grass  were  returning,  in  hordes,  like  little  green  armies  ; 
the  first  buds  were  breaking  the  cold,  dank  soil  and 
peeking  forth,  while  still  close  wrapped,  as  if  to  say  : 
"Is  it  time?"  And  only  Garde  would  have  pushed 
them  back,  only  Garde,  usually  so  joyous  in  the  return 
ing  of  warmth  and  beauty,  would  have  held  to  the  edge 
of  the  mantle  of  snow,  to  retain  it  where  it  lay. 

Her  heart  was  beating  like  a  lead  clapper,  that  tolled 
against  the  bell  of  her  soul,  day  and  night,  for  the  fear 
that  was  on  her  of  the  coming  week,  when  her 
year  of  respite  would  end.  Already  her  grandfather 
looked  at  her  with  fanatical  eagerness  in  his  eyes,  and 
rubbed  his  shaking  hands  with  delight.  He  had  no 
eyes  to  see  that  she  was  pale,  that  she  started  at  sounds 
as  she  had  never  done  before,  fearing  that  Eandolph 
had  come  a  few  days  too  soon,  to  claim  and  to  carry 
her  off.  The  old  man's  one  idea  was  the  safety  of  the 
charter.  To  secure  this,  no  sacrifice  could  have 


Garde's  Extremity.  173 

too  great.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  David  Dormer  had 
no  conception  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  was  requiring. 
Such  zealots  rarely  have. 

In  despair,  three  days  before  her  dreaded  hour  should 
arrive,  Garde  hastened  like  a  child,  afraid  of  an  ogre, 
to  Goody  Dune.  The  evening  was  cold,  for  the  sky 
was  overcast,  the  wind  was  blowing  from  the  north  and 
a  few  scattered  speckles  of  snow  flew  spitefully  through 
the  air. 

"  B-u-h-h— it's  cold  !  B-u-h-h— it's  cold  ! "  said  the 
jackdaw,  when  Garde  came  in  at  the  door.  The  bird 
was  echoing  the  past  winter's  history  of  what  poor  old 
Goody  had  suffered,  alone  in  her  hut. 

"Well,  dearie,"  said  the  old  woman,  who  was  evi 
dently  making  preparations  to  go  out,  on  some  mission 
of  her  own,  "you  look  as  if  you  too  are  in  need  of  some 
of  the  simples  you  gathered  in  the  summer." 

"  It  is  nothing  simple  that  I  need,"  said  Garde.  "  I 
have  come  for  wisdom  and  help.  Oh,  Goody,  I  don't 
know  what  I  shall  do.  I  wish  so  I  had  come  to  you 
sooner  ! " 

"You  must  stop  trembling  first,"  said  Goody. 
"  Here,  take  this  cup  of  tea.  It  is  going  to  be  a  bitter 
night." 

She  had  prepared  the  drink  for  herself,  to  fortify 
her  meager  warmth  of  body  against  the  wind,  into 
which  she  expected  to  go  on  an  errand,  presently. 

"  It  is  not  from  the  cold ;  it  is  inside  that  I  am 
trembling,"  confessed  the  girl.  But  she  took  the  cup, 
obediently.  "  If  you  can  do  nothing  to  help  me,  I  could 
wish  the  cold  would  never  let  me  go  back  to  my  home  !  " 

"There,  there,  drink  the  tea,"  said   Goody,   after 


174  Hearts  of  Grace 

giving  her  one  penetrative  glance.  For  yonng  women 
to  feel  that  terrible  demi-mania  of  desiring  self-destruc 
tion  was  not  new  to  Goody  Dune.  She  had  gone  through 
the  stages  herself.  She  knew  almost  exactly  the  con 
ditions  which  universally  promote  the  emotion  in  the 
young  of  her  sex. 

"I  know  that  Adam  has  never  returned,"  she  said, 
slowly.  "  You  have  had  no  word,  even.  I  have  seen 
that  in  your  eyes.  But,  dear  me,  have  you  no  abiding 
faith  and  hope,  child  ?  In  the  spring " 

"  Oh  it  isn't  that,  Goody  ! "  broke  in  Garde.  "  I 
could  wait — I  could  wait  for  him  fifty  years,  patiently 
— yes,  patiently.  I  love  him.  But  you  don't  know 
what  has  happened.  I  have  never  told  you.  What 
was  the  use  !  They  made  me  promise  ; — and  if  Adam 
knew — he  might  never  come  back.  No — he  would  not 
come  back.  And  I  love  even  the  very  places  where  his 
shadow  fell,  in  the  forest — and  the  log  he  was  sitting 
on.  I  love  the  gate  where  his  hands  rested — I  love 
everything  he  ever  touched ! "  Her  hands  pressed  upon 
her  bosom,  where,  beneath  her  frock,  she  wore  the 
brooch  from  Hispaniola. 

Goody  had  never  seen  her  in  such  a  mood.  She  had 
never  heard  such  passion  from  her  lips.  But  by  the 
memory  of  her  own  heart-break,  she  caught  at  the 
sinister  cry  of  something  promised. 

' ( And  have  you  given  yourself  in  promise  to  some 
body  else  ?  "  she  asked,  quietly,  but  somewhat  severely. 

"  Grandther  forced  me.  What  could  I  do  ?  "  said 
Garde,  feverishly.  "  What  could  anybody  do,  with  the 
charter  being  taken  away  ?  If  I  could  save  it,  I  ought 
to  save  it !  But  he  will  never,  never  keep  his  word  I 


Garde's  Extremity.  175 

He  is  deceiving  them  all, — I  feel  it !  I  know  it !  He 
is  a  wicked  man  !  But  you  will  tell  me  what  to  do. 
You  must  tell  me  what  to  do  ! " 

"Sit  down,  dearie,"  said  the  old  woman,  calmly. 
"  You  must  tell  me  all  about  it.  I  cannot  prescribe, 
even  simples,  until  you  let  me  know  what  you  are  driv 
ing  at,  you  know.  Now  who  is  this  he,  through  whom 
you  are  to  save  the  charter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  ever  happened,"  said  Garde. 
"  He  was  always  known  to  be  the  enemy  of  the  colony, 
but  he  did  something  to  Grandther,  who  has  never 
been  the  same  man  since  Mr.  Randolph " 

"  Edward  Randolph  ! "  interrupted  Goody,  with  a 
sudden  vehemence,  the  like  of  which  she  had  never  be 
fore  betrayed  to  Garde.  "  Did  you  say  Edward  Ran 
dolph  ?  Have  you  promised  to  marry  him,  to  save  the 
charter  ?  There,  there,  sit  down  and  tell  me  your 
story,  quietly.  Only,  do  make  haste." 

Garde  wondered,  momentarily,  at  the  old  woman's 
abrupt  outburst.  It  served  to  give  her  a  new  hold  on 
herself,  for  it  broke  her  own  morbid  thought  and  ex 
citement.  She  told  Goody  what  had  happened  to  mar 
her  happiness  almost  before  Adam's  kiss  had  ceased  to 
burn  on  her  fingers.  She  told  it  brokenly,  incoherently, 
for  she  knew  all  the  details  of  the  story  so  vividly  that 
she  could  not  realize  that  Goody  was  not  also  in  pos 
session  of  the  entire  fabric  of  thoughts  and  struggles 
which  had  brought  about  her  grandfather's  cherished 
end.  However,  Goody  Dune  was  a  woman,  and  quick- 
minded  and  astute  at  that.  She  patched  as  rapidly  as 
Garde  gave  her  the  irregular  fragments  of  the  tale. 
She  had  shut  her  mouth  tightly  at  the  end  of  her  own 


176  Hearts  of  Grace 

outburst,  and  it  seemed  to  Garde  her  lips  had  grown 
harder  since.  Her  eyes  were  certainly  snapping  crisply. 
Goody  was  aroused. 

"  Come  with  me/'  she  presently  said,  interrupting 
Garde's  outpourings  again.  "  When  you  came  I  was 
starting  to  go  where  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  follow, 
before  the  hour  grows  later." 

"  But,  Goody,  won't  you  tell  me  what  to  do  ?  "  said 
Garde,  in  anguish. 

"  You  will  know  what  to  do,  when  you  go  home," 
said  the  old  woman,  somewhat  grimly.  "  I  know 
Edward  Randolph  by  his  works." 

She  led  the  way  out  into  the  gathering  twilight  with 
out  further  delay.  Garde  shivered  a  little,  as  the  cold 
wind  struck  her  again,  but  she  followed,  eagerly,  with 
wonder  in  her  heart  and  a  little  awe  of  Goody,  in  her 
tortured  mind.  What  could  the  old  woman  mean  ? 
Where  could  she  now  be  hastening  ? 

Goody  proceeded  with  a  straightness  that  argued 
familiarity  with  the  route,  and  fixity  of  purpose  in  her 
mind.  She  went  by  alleys  that  led  down  toward  the 
water,  where  fisher-folk  had  builded  little  shanties  on 
the  rocks  above  the  roar  of  the  harbor  breakers. 

"  I  am  taking  you  to  see  another  young  woman,"  she 
said.  ' i  She  was  pretty  too,  and  she  had  no  parents. 
Her  mother  died  five  years  ago,  and  her  father,  James 
Hodder,  was  lost  in  the  storm,  last  spring.  She  was 
an  easy  prey,  you  see.  Poor  Hester  !  and  only  fifteen." 

Garde  looked  at  the  old  woman  in  wonder.  All  this 
half  muttered  preface  to  something  coming,  served  to 
make  her  heart  beat  so  hard  that  she  could  hear  it, 
painfully. 


Garde's  Extremity.  177 

"  What  is  it  about  her  ?  "  she  asked,  breathlessly. 

Goody  made  no  answer.  She  had  reached  the  door 
of  one  of  the  huts,  and  pushing  it  open  she  entered, 
Garde,  pale  and  large-eyed,  close  behind  her. 

"  Ned— oh  Ned  !  "  came  a  half  sob,  half  chortle  of 
joy  from  somewhere  in  the  darkness  of  the  place. 
Garde  felt  shivers  go  down  her  entire  form. 

"  Not  Ned  yet,  my  love/'  said  Goody,  in  a  voice  so 
cooing  that  Garde  hardly  knew  it.  "  Presently,  dear, 
presently.  He  is  sure  to  come  back  to-night.  Dear 
me,  we  must  have  a  light  and  see  how  we're  doing." 

Garde  had  heard  a  little  moan  which  Goody's  cooing 
had  not  sufficed  to  smother.  Then  there  had  been 
the  sound  of  a  stifled  sob.  Goody  went  to  the  dying 
embers  in  the  chimney-place,  to  get  a  light  for  a  tallow 
dip  on  which  she  had  put  her  hand  with  unerring 
familiarity  with  the  furnishings  of  the  place.  The 
voice,  with  tears  and  patience  in  its  syllables,  came  again: 

"  He  will  come — back,  to  night  ?  He — didn't  come 
— last  night.  He  hasn't — come  for  a — week." 

"Oh  yes,  he  will  surely  come  to-night,"  crooned 
Goody,  at  the  fireplace.  "But  how  is  the  little 
dollie  ?  "  Garde  was  leaning  back  against  the  door, 
heavily.  Her  eyes  were  staring  into  the  utter  dark 
ness  with  which  the  place  was  filled.  She  felt  the  pres 
ence  of  a  woman  on  a  bed  of  motherhood.  She  was 
ready  to  sink  on  the  floor,  with  terrible  apprehensions. 
The  woman  on  the  bed  made  some  heroic  effort  to  calm 
herself,  and  to  answer  Goody's  question. 

"  She's  sleeping,"  she  said.  "  She  was  so  cold,  but 
I  have  got  her  warm  again." 

The  tallow  dip  now  flared.     Goody  shielded  it  cau- 

12 


178  Hearts  of  Grace 

tiously  as  it  sputtered  and  then  she  arose  to  her  feet. 
Between  her  fingers  the  light  spread,  throwing  great, 
grotesque  shadows  of  her  hand  on  the  walls,  in  one 
direction  and  a  larger  adumbration  of  her  head  in  the 
other.  Garde  saw  the  couch,  which  she  had  known 
was  in  the  corner.  She  also  saw  a  white  face,  too  thin 
to  be  pretty,  and  all  of  a  soul's  being  and  anguish  con 
centrated  in  two  great  eyes.  Her  own  eyes  were  blaz 
ing  with  the  emotions  by  which  she  was  possessed.  As 
if  there  had  been  some  great  affinity  between  them,  the 
young  woman  on  the  couch  was  looking  at  Garde  the 
moment  the  dip  illumined  the  room. 

"  Who's  that  ?  "  said  the  startled  Hester  on  the  conch. 

"  A  friend,  a  friend,  dear,"  said  Goody.  "  I  brought 
her  to  see  you.  She  knows  Edward.'* 

'  '  She — she  knows  Ned  ?  "  said  the  wasted  young 
mother,  raising  herself  up,  abruptly.  "  Let  me  see  her. 
Oh,  oh, — you  are  so  pretty  !  But  you  won't  take  him 
away  from  me — you  won't  take  him,  please  ?  He  does 
really  love  me — he  didn't  mean  what  he  said.  He  must 
love  me,  now.  He  hasn't  seen  our  little  baby,  or  he 
would  love  me  more  than  anything  in  the  world.  You 
wouldn't  take  him  away  from  me — now  ? " 

As  Hester  sat  there,  propped  up  by  one  thin,  white 
arm,  brushing  her  hair  from  her  face  and  leaning 
eagerly  toward  her  visitor,  Garde  could  only  put  her 
hand  to  her  cheek  and  shake  her  head.  Her  bosom 
rose  and  fell  in  the  agitation  which  was  shaking  her 
whole  being. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad — oh,  I  knew  you  wouldn't,"  said 
the  girl  on  the  couch.  "  You  couldn't  have  the  heart, 
could  you  ?  See— see  ! " 


Garde's  Extremity.  179 

Weakened  as  she  was,  she  made  a  great  effort  to  rally 
her  strength  and  dragged  a  little  bundle  forth  from  be 
tween  the  blankets  and  her  own  throbbing  bosom,  where 
she  had  kept  it  partially  warm.  She  was  stifling  sobs 
all  the  time  she  was  speaking.  Her  nerveless  fingers 
sought  in  the  folds  with  instinctive  tenderness,  to  un 
cover  a  tiny  face,  as  immobile  as  marble.  "  It's  our 
little  child,"  said  the  mother.  "  She  looks  so  like  him. 
He  would  have  to  love  me  now — you  see  he  couldn't 
help  it/' 

Goody  took  the  babe  in  her  arms.  Garde  saw  every 
thing.  She  saw  the  tidy  poverty  of  the  hut.  She  saw 
the  ghost  of  the  girlish  beauty,  which  this  abandoned 
mother  had  once  possessed.  She  saw  the  young  crea 
ture  tuck  in,  next  her  bosom,  ecstatically,  a  worn-out 
stocking — a  man's  stocking. 

Garde  wanted  to  flee,  but  Goody  brought  her  the  babe 
— a  little  doll  indeed.  Goody  took  her  hand,  for  Garde 
seemed  stricken  with  helplessness,  and  placed  it  lightly 
on  the  tiny,  white  face  of  the  child.  The  girl  drew  it 
away  with  a  shudder.  The  babe  was  dead. 

"  Go  home,  dearie,"  said  Goody,  in  a  croon.  "  You 
will  know  what  to  do.  God  makes  few  of  the  marriages 
laid  at  His  door,  but  He  does  make  some  of  these. 
Hester  has  a  right  to  believe  He  made  her  a  wife — else 
why  a  mother  ?  " 

Garde  opened  the  door  and  ran  out,  glad,  oh  so  glad 
it  was  cold ! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

RANDOLPH'S  COURTSHIP. 

GARDE  fled  home  as  if  some  unthinkable  fate  were  in 
pursuit.  She  was  haunted  by  the  look  she  had  seen  in 
the  eyes  of  that  girl-mother,  back  in  the  hut.  She 
could  hear  the  young  thing  still  begging  her  not  to  rob 
her  of  the  man  who  had  taken  her  all  and  given  her  an 
ineradicable  shame  in  exchange. 

Yet  beneath  every  other  emotion.  Garde  felt  a  sense 
of  exultation.  The  estimate  of  her  instinct  was  con 
firmed — Randolph  was  perfidy  itself.  Not  a  soul  among 
the  Puritans,  she  believed,  could  do  aught  but  support 
her  against  this  man.  And  if  only  she  could  wrench 
herself  free,  how  gladly  would  she  welcome  the  penance 
of  waiting  years  for  Adam,  in  payment  for  her  act, 
which  she  felt  was  disloyalty,  in  consenting  to  the  pro 
visional  betrothal  into  which  she  had  been  forced  ! 

Her  grandfather  now  would  have  to  be  the  first  to 
protect  her  from  the  dread  fate  which  had  come  so  near, 
she  thought.  To  confuse  politics  and  the  personal  affairs 
of  her  narrow  life  is  the  privilege  of  the  sex  to  which 
Garde  belonged.  She  planned,  as  she  darted  through 
the  wind-swept  streets.  She  would  tell  it  all  to 
Grandther  Donner,  and  then  he  should  save  her  the  or 
deal  of  meeting  Edward  Randolph  in  any  manner  what 
soever.  She  gave  no  thought  to  the  charter,  nor  to 
180 


Randolph's  Courtship.  181 

what  the  man  with  the  power  he  wielded  would  do  in 
revenge  to  their  liberties,  now  that  he  would  find  him 
self  baffled,  at  the  end  of  his  term  of  waiting. 

She  yearned  for  Adam.  She  could  tell  him,  now, 
what  she  had  been  driven  to  do,  whereas  before  this 
she  had  always  wished  him  to  come,  yet  had  shrunk 
from  the  thought  of  confessing  what  she  had  permitted 
to  be  done.  Yes,  she  could  lay  it  all  bare  before  him 
now,  and  fairly  scourge  herself  with  her  own  reproaches, 
joyously.  What  an  exquisite  pleasure  it  would  be  to 
ask  his  forgiveness  thus,  and  not  at  first  receive  it,  and 
then  at  last  be  taken  home  to  his  arms  and  his  love  ! 
For  her  thoughts,  her  heart-beats,  her  soul's  longings 
had  all  been  constant  to  him,  and  to  him  alone.  She 
would  like  to  tell  him  all  this.  And  she  would  let  him 
kiss  her,  now.  For  through  what  hours  had  she  wished, 
when  she  had  thought  they  might  never  meet  in  that 
way  again,  that  his  kiss  had  been  placed  upon  her  lips 
that  day  of  their  parting.  She  almost  frightened  her 
self  with  the  thought  of  how  that  one  kiss  on  her  fingers 
might  have  been  his  only  kiss.  But  the  next  moment 
she  tingled  with  ecstasy,  to  think  she  was  free  and  that 
some  day  he  would  come  back,  and  then  she  would 
know  how  to  love  him  and  to  cherish  him  as  never 
before  she  could  have  known. 

Thus  glowing  one  moment,  with  love's  own  reveries, 
and  chilling  the  next,  with  sudden  reminders  of  what 
had  just  been  and  what  might  still  be,  she  reached  her 
grandfather's  house,  where  she  had  been  staying  with 
the  old  man  for  the  past  year,  with  only  rare  visits  to 
the  Soams.  She  went  in  by  the  kitchen  door.  This 
apartment  being  dark,  she  passed  through  to  the  dining- 


182  Hearts  of  Grace 

room,  which  was  lighted  but  unoccupied,  hence  she  con 
tinued  on  to  the  parlor,  where  she  fancied  she  heard 
voices.  Entering  here,  she  could  have  fallen  to  the 
floor  in  sheer  astonishment  and  fright. 

She  found  herself  confronting  her  grandfather  and 
Edward  Kandolph  himself. 

"  Ah,  here  she  is,  you  see,"  said  David  Donner,  rub 
bing  his  hands  together,  delightedly.  "I  thought  she 
couldn't  be  far  away.  My  child,  Mr.  Randolph  has 
come  to  have  a  little  chat.  Natural  enough,  I  should 
think."  He  chuckled  with  pleasure,  adding  :  "Dear 
me,  I  mustn't  forget  to  cover  my  rose,  on  a  night  like 
this. "  With  fatuous  smiles,  that  ill  suited  his  grim  old 
visage,  he  quitted  the  room,  in  a  sprightly,  playful 
manner,  and  left  Garde  facing  Randolph,  alone. 

"  Good  evening,  Mistress  Merrill,"  said  the  man, 
fastening  the  hungry  gaze  of  his  deep-set  eyes  upon  her 
face.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so  well." 

"  Good  evening,  sir,  and  thank  you/'  said  Garde,  in 
a  voice  scarcely  audible.  She  had  become  suddenly 
pale.  She  trembled.  She  looked  at  the  man  as  one 
fascinated  by  a  baleful  point  of  light. 

"  It  seemed  but  reasonable  that  I  should  call  and  see 
yon,  since  our  betrothal  is  so  soon  to  end  in  our  mar 
riage,"  said  Randolph,  moving  slowly  toward  her,  as  if 
to  prolong  his  own  anticipation  of  standing  where  he 
could  reach  her  at  last.  "  I  have  been  very  patient, 
have  I  not,  my  pretty  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  You — have  been  very — patient,"  echoed  Garde, 
helplessly  and  panting  like  a  spent  doe,  to  catch  her 
breath. 

"  And  I  have  kept  my  word,"  he  went  on,  still  slowly 


Randolph's  Courtship.  183 

approaching.  "  Massachusetts  has  her  charter,  and 
now — I  have  my  wife." 

He  put  out  his  hand,  like  a  talon,  to  clutch  her  fast. 

One  convulsive  shiver  seemed  to  break  the  spell  which 
had  held  Garde  enthralled.  She  leaped  away,  her  eyes 
blazing,  her  lips  quivering,  her  frame  shaken  with 
emotion. 

''  No  ! "  she  cried.  "  No  !  Don't  touch  me  !  Keep 
away  !  I  loathe  you  !  I  know  what  you  are  !  Keep 
away, — I  can't  bear  you  !  " 

"  What's  this  ? "  said  the  man,  scowling,  till  his 
great  brow  threw  a  sinister  shadow  as  far  down  as  his 
cheek  bones.  "Have  a  care,  my  dear  Garde.  We 
made  our  bargain  a  year  ago.  This  is  no  time 
for  kittenish  pranks.  Come  back  here  where  you 
were/' 

His  tone  was  authoritative.  The  gleam  in  his  eyes 
was  a  warning  against  disobedience.  But  Garde  could 
be  no  further  frightened  than  he  had  made  her  by  his 
mere  presence.  She  stood  there,  alert  for  the  first 
sign  which  would  send  her  running,  if  need  be,  to  jump 
through  the  window. 

"  I  shall  never  touch  you,  nor  go  near  you  ! "  she 
said.  "  There  is  no  bargain  between  us.  I  would 
rather  die  than  to  be  your  wife  !  I  know  what  you  are, 
I  say.  I  have  been  to  Hester  Hodder's,  to-night !  I 
have  seen  her.  I  know  what  you  are  !  " 

Randolph  took  hold  of  his  lip  and  pinched  it  vi 
ciously.  He  glared  at  the  girl  in  silence,  for  a  moment. 
"  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  me,"  he  said.  "  You 
have  made  some  mistake." 

"  I  made  a  terrible  mistake  when  I  first  submitted  to 


184  Hearts  of  Grace 

this  loathsome  plan/'  said  Garde,  gaining  courage  as 
she  spoke.  "  I  always  distrusted  you,  despised  you. 
Do  you  think  I  would  trust  a  man  to  save  our  charter 
who  wouldn't  save  a  woman's  honor — who  would  do 
what  you  have  done  ?  You  may  go — you  may  go  away  ! 
I  loathe  you  !  I  scorn  you  !  Oh,  I  have  found  you  out 
in  time  !  " 

"  This  is  silly  talk,  Mistress  Merrill,"  said  the  man. 
"I  know  nothing  of  your  Hester  Hodder." 

Garde  made  a  gesture  expressive  of  disgust  and  im 
patience. 

"  But  all  this  has  no  bearing  on  anything  one  way  or 
the  other/'  Eandolph  continued.  "  You  must  not  for 
get  that  I  have  as  much  power  over  the  charter  and  the 
colony  as  ever — in  fact,  more.  I  have  become  the 
friend  of  these  people,  but  you  can  make  me  their 
enemy  with  a  very  little  of  your  nonsense.  Come,  now, 
let  us  be  two  sensible  beings  and  not  begin  our  union 
by  quar " 

"  If  you  have  had  any  power  to  do  us  injury,"  inter 
rupted  Garde,  "we  will  find  it  done.  You  wouldn't 
dare  to  trust  yourself.  I  have  a  fear,  such  as  I  never 
had  before,  of  the  harm  you  have  doubtless  done  this 
colony,  darkly,  in  the  year  just  passed." 

Garde  had  a  way,  fairly  uncanny,  of  saying  terrible 
truths,  as  if  from  some  sort  of  inspiration,  which  came 
upon  her  unawares.  Eandolph  had  his  pockets  full  of 
documents,  at  that  moment,  which  lay  there  like  a  mine 
of  explosives,  ready  to  shatter  the  charter  and  govern 
ment,  almost  at  his  whisper  of  command.  His  mind 
could  conceive  of  nothing  so  exquisite  in  treachery,  to 
these  people  that  he  hated,  and  in  vengeance  against 


Randolph's  Courtship.  185 

Garde,  for  the  attitude  she  had  always  assumed  toward 
him,  as  to  marry  her  first  and  then  to  destroy  the  charter 
afterward.  This  had  been  his  dream  for  more  than  the 
year.  He  had  waited  for  its  climax  as  patiently  as  a 
cat  will  wait  before  a  hole  till  the  mouse  shall  reappear. 
Garde's  words  were  as  so  many  poignards,  only  that 
they  failed  to  strike  him  in  a  fatal  spot.  They  stung 
him  to  greater  fury  than  he  had  ever  felt  and  to  a  hot 
ter  determination  to  humble  the  girl  and  to  reduce 
Massachusetts  to  abject  servility  and  despair. 

The  man  saw  that  this  was  an  ill  time  to  threaten 
Garde.  She  was  not  made  of  the  wax  which  his  sophis 
tries  had  substituted  for  the  metal  once  in  David  Don- 
ner's  composition. 

"You  have  entertained  some  strange  ideas  of  me, 
Mistress  Merrill,  for  which  I  am  at  a  loss  to  account," 
he  said,  more  quietly.  "  I  feel  sure  we  merely  mis 
understand  each  other.  Have  I  not  shown,  for  a 
year,  that  my  one  wish  is  to  prove  myself  a  staunch 
friend  of  these  good  people  and  worthy  of  your  esteem  ? 
I  am  willing  to  do  anything  further,  if  you  can  think 
of  anything  you  would  like  to  suggest,  before  we  are 
married." 

"  We  shall  never  be  married,"  said  the  girl,  self-pos 
sessed,  now,  and  calm  enough  to  be  fairly  judicial.  "If 
yon  wish  to  win  my  respect,  go  and  marry  Hester  Hod- 
der,  and  let  your  child  not  be  buried  in  shame." 

The  man  winced,  but  not  visibly.  He  took  his  lip  in 
his  fingers  again  and  pinched  it  till  it  was  white.  He 
realized  that  in  her  present  frame  of  mind,  Garde  was 
utterly  incorrigible.  He  only  made  matters  worse  by 
remaining  where  she  was.  He  knew  of  a  trick  worth 


i86  Hearts  of  Grace 

two  of  prolonging  this  interview.  Yet  he  must  retire 
in  good  order. 

"I  must  tell  you  once  more,"  he  said,  "  that  I  know 
nothing  about  this  person  of  whom  you  speak.  I  re 
gret  that  something  has  prejudiced  your  mind  against 
me,  especially  when  you  insist  upon  doing  me  this 
wrong.  Let  me  say  good  night,  for  I  am  sure  I  shall 
find  you  in  an  altered  mood  to-morrow." 

"  Good  night,"  said  Garde,  icily. 

The  man  smiled  and  went  out,  closing  the  door  as  if 
it  had  been  the  bars  of  a  cage,  which  he  had  dared  to 
enter,  at  the  risk  of  frightening  his  prey  to  death. 

He  went  out  into  the  garden  and  called  to  David 
Donner. 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 
DAVID'S  COERCION. 

DAVID  DONNER  came  in  from  that  interview  in  the 
garden  an  angered  fanatic.  The  bitter  cold  cf  the 
night  had  entered  into  his  soul,  with  all  the  heaped-up 
threats  which  Randolph  had  hurled  at  his  head. 

These  threats  had  not  been  fired  at  David  loudly  nor 
fiercely.  Randolph  had  told  him  of  Garde's  insubor 
dination,  of  her  charges  and  of  her  repudiation  of  her 
promise.  He  had  shown  that  whether  her  allegations  as 
to  Hester  Hodder  were  true  or  false,  they  had  nothing 
to  do  with  Massachusetts  politics.  He  had  then  opened 
up  with  his  main  battery — a  recital  of  the  power  he  had 
steadily  accumulated,  during  the  past  year,  and  of 
his  intention  to  use  it,  immediately,  if  Donner  and 
Garde  now  failed  in  the  slightest  particular  to  keep 
their  share  of  the  bargain. 

Donner  became  nearly  crazed.  For  a  year  he  had 
dwelt  with  fondness  upon  the  topic  of  the  charter  and 
of  how  he  had  saved  it,  until  nothing  else  could  get 
foothold  in  his  mind.  Indeed  he  had  become  mildly 
insane  upon  the  subject.  He  had  counted  the  days, 
and  finally  the  hours  waiting  for  the  final  ratification 
of  the  contract  with  Randolph,  whose  influence  with 
King  James  had  exceeded  even  that  which  he  had  ex- 

187 


1 88  Hearts  of  Grace 

ercised  when  Charles  sat  upon  the  throne.  To  reflect 
that  now,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  the  mere  whim  of  a  silly 
girl  could  destroy  this  whole  fabric  and  sweep  away 
their  jealously  guarded  liberty  and  independence,  at  a 
single  breath,  nearly  made  a  maniac  of  the  old  man. 

Hester  Hodder  was  as  nothing.  A  hundred  such 
women,  with  their  dead  babes,  would  have  been  as 
nothing,  compared  to  the  safety  of  the  charter.  What 
had  Garde  been  born  for,  if  she  was  not  to  save  the 
day,  when  her  promise  was  made  and  when  she  alone 
stood  between  ruin  and  the  colony  ?  What  was  her 
girlish  folly,  that  it  should  stand  in  the  path  forbid 
ding  the  colony  its  existence  ?  What  should  be  her 
very  life,  when  the  matter  against  it  weighed  so 
ponderously  ? 

Thinking  what  his  compatriots  would  say,  if  they 
should  learn  of  this  latest  turn  of  affairs,  Donner  wrung 
his  hands  in  agony,  and  then  clenched  them  in  rage. 
For  twenty  years  the  charter  had  fluttered  between  life 
and  death.  For  the  last  year  it  had  gained  in  strength 
till  it  seemed  that  all  danger  had  passed.  No  religious 
fanaticism,  no  zeal  of  inquisitions  ever  possessed  a 
man's  soul,  heart  and  brain  more  thoroughly  than  his 
patriotism  possessed  Grandfather  Donner. 

When  he  went  into  the  house,  his  trembling,  bony 
hands  were  as  cold  as  those  of  a  skeleton.  He  was  half 
crying,  with  his  utter  vexation  and  fear  for  the  char 
ter,  and  yet  he  ground  his  teeth,  in  his  auger  and  stub 
born  determination  to  compel  his  grandchild  to  ad 
here  to  her  promise.  When  he  came  to  where  Garde 
was  awaiting  his  return  indoors,  she  mistook  the  mad 
light  in  his  eyes  for  righteous  indignation  at  Ban- 


David's  Coercion.  189 

dolph's  perfidy,  of  which  she  believed  he  had  become 
apprised. 

"  Oh,  Grandther,"  she  said,  running  trustingly  to 
ward  him  and  beginning  already  to  cry,  from  her  stress 
of  emotions.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  back  to 
protect  me ! " 

"  Protect  you  ?  Protect  you  ?  "  he  almost  screamed, 
clutching  her  by  the  shoulders,  so  fiercely  that  the  cold 
and  the  pain  which  he  caused  seemed  to  penetrate  her 
through  and  through.  "  What  madness  have  you  com 
mitted  ?  What  have  you  done  ?  The  charter, — the 
charter — the  charter  ! — you  shall  save  the  charter  !  Do 
yon  hear  me  ?  You  shall  keep  your  promise  and 
save  the  colony  ! "  He  shook  her  till  the  girl  was 
gasping.  She  could  think  of  nothing  but  a  hideous 
nightmare. 

"  Oh,  he  hasn't  told  you,  Grandther/'  she  cried.  "  If 
you  knew  the  truth  you  would  turn  him  from  the  door  ! 
I  have  seen  poor  Hester  and  her  baby.  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  him— I  should  die  !  " 

' '  You — you — you  traitor  I "  stammered  the  old  man, 
in  his  mania.  "  You — you  betray  the  colony  !  You 
are  mad,  mad  !  You  promised.  You  made  your  own 
conditions.  You  have  deceived  me.  You  would  play 
us  false,  now — now,  when  our  liber  ties  are  taking  heart. 
But  you  shall  not !  What  ?  You  come  home  here 
with  this  silly  story,  you — you,  the  daughter  of  a 
Donner — and  ready  to  tear  up  the  charter  for  your 
silly  notions.  No — no  I  no  !  no  ! — you  shall  marry 
this  man  !  You  shall  keep  this  your  bargain  !  The 
charter — you  shall  save  the  charter  !  " 

"Oh,  but,  Grandther,  the  story  is  true,"  said  Garde, 


Hearts  of  Grace 

wringing  her  hands.  "  He  is  the  one  that  is  false.  And 
I  thought  you  would  hold  me  too  precious  for  such  a 
thing  as " 

"Enough  !"  commanded  the  crazed  old  man.  "My 
word — the  colony's  word — has  been  given.  The  bargain 
shall  be  kept.  This  has  gone  too  far  already.  To 
think  that  for  one  moment  you  would  so  jeopardize  the 
charter  !  I  am  stricken  with  shame  at  your  want  of 
honor  at  this  crisis  of  our  liberties  ! " 

Garde  still  failed  to  believe  she  heard  her  grandfather 
correctly.  She  still  hoped  his  impatience  would  abate 
sufficiently  for  her  to  tell  of  what  she  had  seen.  It 
could  not  be  possible  that  a  Puritan,  so  high-minded 
and  strict  for  moral  conduct,  could  know  what  she 
knew  and  still  insist  upon  this  infamous  marriage.  To 
her,  at  that  moment,  it  was  virtue  and  honor  that  were 
all  important  to  be  saved,  the  charter  and  the  colony 
that  had  become  insignificant. 

"  If  you  had  touched  that  little  dead  baby,"  she  said. 
"If  you  had  heard  Hester  begging,  Grandther — oh, 
you  would  have  kept  your  promise, — you  would  never 
coerce  me  in  this  terrible " 

"  Stop  !  stop ! "  cried  Donner,  madly,  angered 
almost  beyond  control  by  this  appeal,  which  was  so 
unbearably  remindful  of  her  mother.  "  I  have  not 
coerced  you,  never !  You  made  your  promise  freely. 
The  honor  of  the  colony,  and  more  than  that,  the 
safety  of  the  charter,  now  hang  upon  your  faith  in  keep 
ing  your  own  agreement.  And  you  shall  keep  it — for 
the  family  pride — for  the  colony's  good  name  !  This 
story — what  is  the  woman  ? — what  is  her  child  ? — what 
is  anything,  when  our  liberty  and  independence  trem- 


David's  Coercion.  191 

ble  in  the  balance  ?  No  more — I'll  hear  no  more  of 
this, — not  a  word  !  " 

Garde  brushed  a  wisp  of  her  red-black  hair  from  her 
forehead.  Her  great  brown  eyes  were  fastened  wide 
open  by  amazement.  Her  lips  alone  contained  any 
color.  How  red  they  seemed  against  the  white  of  her 
oval  face  !  Her  eyebrows  seemed  like  two  curved  black 
brands  on  her  brow.  She  looked  at  her  grandfather  in 
silence.  It  was  positively  incredible  that  he  had  said 
what  she  had  heard,  she  thought.  If  Hester  and  her 
child  and  t(  everything  "  were  held  of  so  little  worth, 
why — what  of  herself  ?  Had  it  come  to  this  ?  Was  it 
admittedly  and  shamelessly  a  sacrifice  of  her  very  soul, 
to  a  creature  only  waiting  to  have  his  way  first  before 
destroying  the  charter  later  ? 

To  the  pure,  natural  mind  of  the  girl,  Randolph  had 
become  as  translucent  as  water,  in  his  plotted  perfidies. 
It  appeared  impossible  that  any  man  could  still  believe 
in  his  lies.  She  would  have  spoken  of  this,  but  the 
sight  of  the  fanatical  old  man  before  her,  sealed  her 
lips.  She  recognized  the  light  in  his  eyes  at  last.  At 
any  other  moment  her  pity  would  have  fluttered  forth 
to  him,  yearningly,  her  little  mother  instinct  would 
have  taken  her  on  the  wings  of  concern  to  smooth  the 
care-channeled  wrinkles  from  his  brow,  but  now  all 
these  tenderer  emotions  had  fled  away,  in  fear  and  awe. 
She  said  nothing  further.  There  was  nothing  left  to 
say,  nothing  that  would  have  any  weight  against 
mania.  At  length  even  her  gaze  fell  before  the  wild 
look  with  which  David  Donner  confronted  her,  in 
sanely. 

"Now  then,"  said  the  old  man,  at  length,  in  a  voice 


Hearts  of  Grace 

made  raucous  by  his  recent  passions,  "you  may  go  to 
bed  and  prepare  your  mind  for  obedience." 

"  Good  night,  dear  Grandther,"  said  Garde,  by  force 
of  habit,  and  with  nothing  more,  she  passed  from  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
GOODY'S  BOY. 

THE  right  of  Spring  to  exercise  idiosyncrasies  of 
weather  was  conceded,  doubtless,  by  the  first  man. 
Spring  is  well  known  to  be  female,  for  this  very  pro 
clivity  of  changing  her  mind  as  to  what  she  will  do 
next.  Having  been  a  spitfire  nearly  all  night,  Spring 
smiled  in  the  morning,  as  balmy  as  if  she  had  caught 
the  fancy  of  some  tropical  zephyr,  that  hastened  rashly 
northward  to  catch  her  for  a  kiss. 

The  first  ray  of  the  sun  found  itself  entangled  in  the 
hair  of  Mistress  Merrill.  Garde  had  not  slept  during 
the  night.  She  had  not  gone  to  bed,  nor  had  she  pre 
pared  her  mind  for  obedience  to  her  grandfather's 
commands.  She  had  spent  the  hours  sitting  at  the 
window,  waiting  for  the  morning. 

She  now  sped  swiftly  through  the  unawakened  streets, 
a  prey  to  a,  sense  of  fear  that  she  was  being  pursued. 
From  time  to  time  she  cast  a  quick  glance  across  her 
shoulder,  but  there  was  no  one  following.  There  was 
hardly  a  sound,  save  that  a  few  birds — hardy  little 
scouts,  ahead  of  the  northward -creeping  caravan  of 
summer — twittered  and  set  up  rival  centers  of  melody 
in  the  trees. 

There  was  no  hesitation  in  the  girl's  footsteps.  She 
13  J93 


194  Hearts  of  Grace 

knew  where  she  was  going.  Goody  Dune's  was  the 
only  place  where  she  could  go,  with  her  present  resolu 
tions.  She  had  come  to  a  logical  conclusion,  as  to 
what  was  now  to  be  done,  shortly  after  leaving  David 
Donner.  Her  mouth  was  firmly  set,  where  determina 
tion  had  come  to  abide. 

As  always,  she  found  Goody  stirring  about,  with  her 
door  wide  open,  when  she  came  to  the  tidy  little  home. 
Goody  beheld  her  coming  before  she  reached  the  gate. 
Peering  into  her  face  knowingly,  the  old  woman  gave  a 
little  shake  to  her  head.  She  was  adept  at  deciphering 
the  hieroglyphics  which  human  emotions  write  upon 
brows  and  lips  and  eyes,  especially  in  the  faces  of  the 
young. 

"  So  your  grandfather  insists  and  you  are  going  to 
run  away  ?  "  she  said,  as  Garde  came  eagerly  up  the 
garden  path  to  the  door. 

"Yes,"  said  Garde,  in  some  awe  of  the  wise  old 
woman  and  her  means  of  acquiring  knowledge,  "  and  I 
want  you  to  help  me, — oh,  yon  must  help  me — just  as 
fast  as  you  can  !  How  did  you  know  ?" 

"  I  could  see  that  you  were  deeply  troubled,  and  I 
know  exactly  what  a  girl  like  you  would  do,"  said 
Goody.  "  I  was  the  same  kind  of  a  girl,  once,  myself. 
Now  tell  me,  first,  where  are  you  going." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Garde,  "  I  think  to  Plymouth, 
to  my  aunt  Kosella." 

"  You  would  do  well  to  make  up  your  mind  on  that 
point,"  said  Goody.  "  And  how  are  you  going,  shall 
you  sail,  or  ride,  or  walk  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  run,"  said  Garde. 

"  If  you  walk  it  will  last  longer,"  said  the  old  woman, 


Goody's  Boy.  195 

with  just  a  suspicion  of  a  smile.  "  Then,  those  two 
points  being  settled,  have  you  brought  anything  to  eat, 
in  your  pocket  ?  " 

<<  No — no,  I  didn't  wait  for  anything,  I  shan't  want 
anything  to  eat  for  days.  I  don't  feel  like  eating,  and 
I  don't  know  when  I  ever  shall." 

"  And  no  blankets  to  sleep  in  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  Goody,  how  could  I  ?  "  said  Garde. 

"  Let  me  see  ;  it  is  something  like  forty  or  fifty  miles 
to  Plymouth,"  Goody  mused.  "  Have  you  thought  how 
it  would  look  if  a  young  woman  were  seen,  running 
night  and  day  for  sixty  miles  ?  You  know  many  people 
walk  from  Plymouth  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  Garde,  eagerly.  "  That  is  the  only 
trouble.  I  want  you  to  do  something  -for  me,  or  tell 
me  what  to  do.  Everybody  would  see  a  girl  and  if 
Grandther  were  told,  he  would  have  me  caught  and 
brought  back — and  I  would  rather  die  ! " 

Goody  laughed  at  her  now,  more  than  half  gaily. 
Her  own  eyes  twinkled  with  delight  over  the  venture. 
"  What  would  be  the  good  of  all  the  things  my  friends 
have  given  me,  all  these  years,  if  I  did  not  use  them  at 
such  a  time  as  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  have  you  got  anything  I  could  really  use  ? " 
Garde  responded.  "  What  is  it  ?  What  can  you  do  ? 
I  mustn't  wait, — they  will  catch  me,  just  as  sure  as  the 
world  \» 

"  Not  if  I  make  you  invisible,"  chucked  Goody.  She 
dived  into  a  chest  she  had  opened  and  began  to  paw,  in 
an  orderly  manner,  at  a  heap  of  clothing  which  the  tiox 
contained.  She  presently  drew  forth  a  complete  suit  of 
clothing  for  a  boy.  "  There,"  she  continued,  "  go  into 


196  Hearts  of  Grace 

the  next  room  and  put  those  on,  as  fast  as  ever  you  are 
a  mind  to." 

"  Those  ?  "  said  the  astonished  Garde.     "  But  these 


"Yes,  I  know.  They  will  make  you  invisible — as  a 
girl.  Do  you  wish  to  be  seen  ?  If  not,  go  and  put 
them  on  and  let  me  get  at  something  else.  We  still 
have  other  fish  to  fry." 

"  But "  started  Garde,  when  Goody  pushed  her 

into  the  next  apartment. 

Goody  continued  to  rummage  in  the  chest,  producing 
a  hat,  much  the  worse  for  age,  a  pair  of  stout  shoes,  a 
stick  and  a  large,  red  handkerchief.  Into  this  hand 
kerchief  she  knotted  a  number  of  slices  of  bread,  some 
pickles  and  some  cold  meat.  She  then  secured  it  on 
the  end  of  the  stick,  and  dropped  inside  it  a  little  wad 
of  money,  tied  in  a  parcel  by  itself. 

Garde  now  returned,  blushing  as  red  as  a  rose  and 
bending  her  legs  inward  at  the  knee  most  shyly, 
although  anything  prettier  could  hardly  be  conceived, 
and  there  was  no  one  present  save  the  old  woman  to 
look,  anyway. 

"  Oh  dear  me  ! "  said  the  jackdaw.     ' '  Oh  dear  me  ! " 

"  Stand  up  stiffly  on  your  pins,"  commanded  Goody. 
"  You  are  not  invisible  as  a  girl  at  all.  Come,  now,  be 
a  man." 

"But— Goody "  gasped  Garde.  "I— I  really 

can't " 

"Yes,  you  can.  You  must,"  corrected  the  old 
woman.  "  Or  else  you  can  give  up  running  away 
altogether." 

"  Oh  no,  no  ! " 


Goody's  Boy.  197 

"Then  do  as  I  tell  you.  Feet  more  apart,  knees 
stiff.  That's  better." 

"  But,  I  feel—I  feel  so— so  cold." 

"  Where,  in  your  face  ?  Nonsense.  Now  try  on 
this  hat." 

Goody  adjusted  the  hat.  It  was  much  too  small  to 
cover  all  of  Garde's  glorious  hair. 

"  This  will  have  to  come  off,"  said  the  old  woman. 

"  Oh  ! "  was  all  Garde  could  reply. 

It  did  seem  a  pity,  but  the  business  in  hand  was 
altogether  grim.  The  scissors  snipped  briskly.  The 
hat  presently  covered  a  quaint,  pretty  head  with  close- 
cropped  locks.  Garde  caught  the  gleam  in  Goody's  eyes, 
for  Goody  could  not  but  admire  her  for  a  most  hand 
some  and  irresistible  boy,  and  again  the  blushes  leaped 
into  her  cheeks,  and  those  tell-tale  knees  began  to  try  to 
hide  one  another. 

Goody  shook  her  head.  "  Any  one  would  still  know 
you  for  Garde  Merrill,"  she  confessed,  "  whether  they 
had  ever  known  you  before  or  not." 

"  Then  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  might  as  well  go  back 
to  my  own  clothes,"  said  the  girl  eagerly. 

"  You  remain  where  you  are,"  instructed  her  mentor. 
"  If  you  are  going  to  run  away  successfully,  yon  must 
muster  up  your  courage.  But  perhaps  you  prefer  to  go 
back  to " 

"  No  !  Til — do  anything,"  interrupted  Garde.  A 
sudden  horror  of  the  thought  of  going  back,  or  of  being 
caught  and  taken  back,  to  Randolph  and  all  the  rest  of 
it,  put  good  steel  into  her  shoulders  and  some  also  into 
her  legs.  "  Please  make  haste  and  let  me  be  starting," 
she  added.  "  They  may  be  coming  at  any  moment ! " 


ig8  Hearts  of  Grace 

Goody  lost  but  little  time  in  thinking.  She  produced 
a  cup,  from  her  shelf  of  decoctions,  and  dabbling  her 
finger  into  its  contents  she  proeeeded  to  stain  the  girl's 
face  a  rich  brown  color,  which  made  her  more  hand 
some  than  ever,  if  possible,  but  which  masked  her  so 
completely  that  her  own  reflection  would  not  have 
known  her.  The  brown  stuff  went  into  her  pretty  ears 
and  all  around  her  plump  pretty  throat  and  even  on  top 
of  her  eyelids  as  they  were  closed,  for  Goody  was  some 
thing  of  an  artist.  When  she  had  finished,  she  re 
garded  her  work  critically. 

"The  angel  Gabriel  wouldn't  know  you  now,  him 
self,"  she  said.  "  When  you  wish  to  get  it  off,  use  vine 
gar.  Take  your  stick  and  your  little  pack,  put  it  over 
your  shoulder,  so,  and  now  you  are  ready.  Would  you 
like  something  to  eat  before  you  go  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  gasped  the  girl,  frightened  half  out  of  her 
wits,  at  the  prospect  of  going  forth  into  the  world  with 
two  pretty,  visible  legs  to  walk  withal.  "  I — I  couldn't 
eat  anything.  I — wait  a  minute.  I — I  think  I  would 
like  a  little  drink  of  water." 

Goody  gave  her  a  dipper  full,  of  which  she  took  one 
miniature  sip. 

"  Do  I— do  I  look— terrible  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"You  look  like  a  farmer's  boy — a  lout  of  a  country 
lad,"  said  Goody.  "So,  good-by,  young  man.  My 
last  word  is,  forget  you  have  got  any  legs,  or  you  will 
surely  be  detected. " 

"  Legs ! "  said  the  jackdaw,  glad  of  a  new  word. 
"Legs!  Legs!" 

"  I  couldn't — wear  anything — over  them,  could  I  ?  " 


Goody's  Boy.  199 

said  Garde,  timidly,  having  jumped  when  Rex  croaked 
so  suddenly. 

"  You  can  wear  a  wedding  gown  over  them,  if  you 
prefer,"  said  the  old  woman,  grimly,  and  suggestively. 
"  I  really  expected  you  to  do  better  than  this." 

"Well — I  will!"  said  the  poor  child,  resolutely. 
"  Good-by,  dear  Goody.  I  shall  always  love  you,  more 
than  ever,  for  this." 

Goody  kissed  her,  as  she  bent  affectionately  forward, 
and  patted  her  motherly  on  the  back.  "  That's  a  good 
boy,"  she  said. 

She  opened  the  door  and  Garde  went  forth.  The 
open  air  made  her  conscious  of  her  attire  instantly. 
But  she  did  her  best,  shy  and  unboyish  as  the  effort 
was. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  ask,"  she  said,  glad  to  get  one  more 
moment  in  which  to  get  ready.  "  How  is  Hester  ? 
How  was  she  when  you  saw  her  last  ?  " 

Goody's  face  darkened.  "I  saw  her  the  first  thing 
this  morning,"  she  said.  <(  Some  one  must  have  called 
last  night,  after  I  left.  Hester  is  dead." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  GREENWOOD   MEETING. 

ADAM  RUST,  sailing  northward,  grew  more  and  more 
hearty  once  again  with  every  day,  although  his  pulse- 
beat  quickened  almost  hourly,  with  a  fever  of  impa 
tience  which  began  to  fasten  itself  upon  him.  He  was 
quite  himself  again,  long  before  the  ship  arrived  at  the 
port  of  New  York.  But  the  beef-eaters  were  a  sorry 
pair,  for  the  sea  still  took  its  revenge  upon  them  for 
Adam's  total  disregard  of  its  powers,  and  the  passage 
had  been  exceptionally  rough. 

It  was  no  more  than  natural  that  Pike  and  Halberd, 
on  arriving  as  far  as  New  Amsterdam,  should  desire  to 
have  done  with  the  boisterous  Atlantic.  Adam,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  in  such  a  fever  to  go  on  to  Boston  that, 
had  no  ships  been  available,  and  no  other  means  pos 
sible,  he  would  have  been  tempted  to  swim.  As  it  was, 
there  was  no  vessel  putting  for  the  north  to  any  point 
beyond  Plymouth  for  a  week,  so  that  Adam  determined 
to  sail  that  far  and  either  to  catch  another  captain 
there,  who  would  convey  him  onward,  or  to  walk  the 
remaining  distance  alone. 

The  beef-eaters,  seeming  absolutely  in  need  of  a  rest 
from  their  adventures  on  the  water,  reluctantly  saw 
the  "  Sachem  "  depart  without  them,  they  in  the  mean 
time  remaining  with  Captain  William  Kidd,  at  his  New 
200 


A  Greenwood  Meeting.  201 

York  home,  expecting  to  go  on  to  Boston  with  him 
later.  This  had  been  the  first  time  that  Rust  had  been 
more  glad  than  otherwise  to  be  for  a  brief  season  with 
out  his  faithful  followers.  But  never  before  had  the 
conditions  of  his  going  to  Boston  been  the  same. 

Thus,  on  a  fine  day  in  April,  Adam  found  himself 
landed  in  the  old  town,  of  which  he  had  no  pleasant 
memories.  He  would  have  confined  his  inspection  of 
and  visit  to  Plymouth  to  the  docks,  had  not  a  hurried 
tour  of  inquiry  elicited  the  information  that  no  vessels 
were  due  to  sail  to  Boston  for  two  or  three  days.  To 
remain  in  the  place  for  such  a  time  as  that  was  not  to 
be  thought  of  on  any  account. 

Providing  himself  with  a  small  parcel  of  food,  at  one 
of  the  taverns,  Adam  was  soon  striding  through  a  street 
of  the  town,  which  he  remembered  vividly  as  one 
wherein  he  had  walked  on  a  former  occasion,  as  a  cap 
tive  boy,  in  a  procession  of  fanatical  Puritans.  The 
memory  was  far  from  being  pleasant. 

He  would  have  avoided  the  place,  had  he  known  his 
way  sufficiently  well,  but  before  he  knew  it  was  so 
very  near,  he  had  come  to  that  square  in  which 
the  stake  with  King  Philip's  head  upon  it  had  once 
been  set. 

He  looked  at  the  plain  surroundings  of  the  locality 
with  a  reminiscence  of  melancholy  stealing  upon  him. 
He  fancied  he  saw  the  precise  spot  where  the  stake  had 
stood.  It  brought  back  a  flood  of  memories,  of  his 
days  spent  with  the  Wampanoags,  his  companionship 
with  King  Philip,  the  war  and  then  the  end.  The 
sequent  thought  was  of  his  first  glimpse  of  Garde,  held 
in  her  grandfather's  arms  and  looking  across  the  bank 


202  Hearts  of  Grace 

of  merciless  faces  with  a  never-to-be-forgotten  sympathy 
in  her  sweet,  brown  eyes.  Dwelling  then  in  fondness 
upon  the  recollection  of  his  first  meeting  with  William 
Phipps,  the  rover  felt  that,  as  his  last  sadness  here  had 
been  an  angary  of  better  times  to  come,  so  this  present 
moment  might  presage  a  happiness  even  greater.  With 
this  comforting  thought  to  spur  him  on  to  Boston,  he 
quitted  the  square  and  was  soon  leaving  the  outskirts 
of  Plymouth  behind  him. 

Spring  seemed  to  be  getting  ready  for  some  great 
event.  She  was  trimming  herself  with  blossoms  and 
virgin  grass,  and  she  was  warm  with  all  her  eagerness 
to  make  herself  lovely.  Adam  opened  his  mouth  to 
breathe  in  the  fragrance  exhaled  by  flirt  Nature.  He 
walked  swiftly,  for  there  was  resilience  under  foot  as 
well  as  in  his  being. 

"If  Garde  were  somewhere  near,  the  day  could 
hardly  be  lovelier/'  he  said,  half  aloud.  "  She  must 
be  breathing  in  this  direction." 

His  glance  was  invited  here  and  attracted  there. 
Wherever  it  rested,  Nature  met  it  with  a  smile.  Adam 
felt  like  hugging  a  tree,  yet  no  single  tree  was  that 
elusive  spirit  of  Nature  which  he  so  longed  to  clasp  and 
to  hold  in  his  arms.  But  if  he  was  mocked  by  the 
ethereal  presence  of  beauty  too  diffuse  to  be  held,  by  a 
redolence  too  subtle  to  be  defined,  and  by  bird  notes  too 
fleeting  to  be  retained,  yet  he  was  charmed,  caressed, 
sublimated  by  the  omnipresence  of  Nature's  love 
liness. 

At  noon  he  was  ten  good  miles  from  Plymouth  and 
trailing  his  sword  through  a  wood,  where  one  could 
feel  that  some  goddess  of  intangible  and  exquisite  en- 


A  Greenwood  Meeting.  203 

tity  had  just  escaped  being  seen,  by  fleeing  into  the 
aisles  of  the  trees,  leaving  an  aroma  of  warmth,  pine- 
breath  and  incense  to  baffle  bees  behind  her.  Where  a 
little  brook  tinkled  upon  pebbles,  for  cymbals,  he  got 
down  on  his  knees  and  had  a  long  drink.  Hearing 
voices,  where  some  party  seemed  approaching,  he  arose 
and  went  forward,  presently  coming  to  a  cross-road  in 
the  forest,  where  he  beheld  a  scene  that  aroused  his 
momentary  indignation. 

It  amounted  to  little.  Three  young  country  clods 
had  evidently  been  pursuing  a  fourth  young  fellow,  who 
was  scarcely  more  than  a  boy,  and  shorter  than  any  in 
the  group,  and  now,  having  come  up  to  him,  at  the 
cross-roads,  had  "  cornered  '"'  him  up  against  a  tree  and 
were  executing  something  like  an  Indian  war-dance 
about  him,  as  he  stood  attempting  to  face  all  three 
at  once. 

They  began  to  yell  and  to  run  in  at  their  captive, 
who  was  striking  at  them  awkwardly  and  not  more  than 
half-heartedly  with  a  stick,  in  order,  apparently,  to 
prevent  them  from  snatching  away  his  hat.  It  was  en 
tirely  too  unequal,  this  sham  combat,  to  accord  with 
Adam's  notions  of  fair  play.  He  started  to  run  toward 
the  group. 

"  Here  !  "  he  shouted.  "  Here,  wait  a  bit,— I'll  take 
a  hand,  to  make  it  even." 

The  youth  against  the  tree  saw  him  coming  before 
the  others  were  aware  of  his  presence.  When  Adam 
shouted,  however,  they  turned  about  quickly  enough, 
and  yelling  in  added  delight  at  being  chased,  they  made 
off  briskly,  running  back  on  the  cross-road,  the  way 
they  had  come. 


2O4  Hearts  of  Grace 

Adam  strode  more  leisurely  toward  the  boy  who 
remained  leaning,  in  obvious  confusion  of  emotions, 
against  the  tree.  He  saw  a  remarkably  handsome, 
brown-complexioned  youth,  with  delicate  features,  large 
eyes,  that  gazed  upon  him  in  wonder,  and  exquisitely 
rounded  legs,  one  of  which  was  nervously  bent  inward 
at  the  knee. 

It  was  Garde. 

Fortunately  she  had  seen  him  before  he  came  close. 
Therefore  the  little  involuntary  cry  of  gladness  which 
had  risen  to  her  lips,  had  been  too  faint  for  him  to 
catch,  at  a  distance.  Then  in  the  moment  when  her 
persecutors  had  been  scampering  away,  she  had  grasped 
at  the  opportunity  to  control  her  emotions  to  the  ex 
tent  of  deciding,  in  one  second  of  timid  and  maidenly 
thoughts,  that  never,  never  would  she  reveal  herself  to 
Adam,  if  she  could  help  it,  while  dressed  in  these  aw 
ful  garments.  She  must  act  the  boy  now,  or  she  would 
perish  with  mortification.  Luckily  the  blush  that  leaped 
to  her  cheeks  was  masked  by  Goody's  brown  stain. 
Nevertheless  she  panted  with  excitement  and  her  bosom 
would  not  be  quiescent. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Adam,  coming  forward  and 
doffing  his  hat,  which  he  felt  that  he  must  do  to  a 
youth  so  gentle  and  so  handsome.  "  You  were  making 
a  very  pretty  fight,  but  it  lacked  somewhat  of  vigor. 
The  ne-xt  time,  slash  this  way,  and  that  way;  guard 
against  assault  with  your  other  arm,  so,  and  do  your 
cutting  at  their  heads."  He  had  drawn  his  sword  with 
which  to  illustrate,  and  flourished  it  lustily  at  the  im 
aginary  enemy,  after  which  he  added  :  "  Now  then, 
who  are  you  any  way,  and  where  are  you  bound  ?  " 


A  Greenwood  Meeting. 


205 


"  Good — good  morning,"  faltered  Garde,  in  a  voice 
scarcely  more  than  audible.  "  I  am — I  am  not  used  to 
fighting." 

"No,  I  should  say  not,"  said  Adam,  trying  to  make 
his  voice  delicate  and  sweet,  in  imitation  of  hers. 
"  You  must  speak  up,  boy,  the  same  as  you  would  fight, 
roaring  thus  :  '  What  ho,  varlets  ! '  on  your  right,  and 
'  Have  at  you,  knaves  ! '  on  your  left.  Shatter  my  hilt ! 
I  haven't  seen  so  girlish  a  boy  since  Will  Shakspeare's 
play.  Stand  out  here  and  let  us  get  acquainted,  for  1 
think  I  shall  like  you,  though  you  do  fight  and  roar  so 
ill." 

Immensely  relieved  to  find  that  he  did  not  suspect 
her  identity,  Garde  summoned  all  the  courage  which 
ten  days  away  from  home  had  sprouted  in  her  being. 
Moreover,  she  knew  that  if  the  deception  was  to  be 
made  successful,  she  must  act  her  part  with  all  her 
ability.  She  therefore  left  the  tree,  against  which  she 
had  continued  to  lean  and  stood  forth,  with  what  brav 
ery  she  could  muster. 

"And  who  may  you  be  ?  "  she  managed  to  inquire. 

"Ha,  that's  better,"  said  Adam.  "Don't  be  afraid 
to  speak  up.  A  dog  that  barks  at  once  seldom  has  need 
to  bite.  And  you  have  the  making  of  a  man  in  you 
yet.  You  could  be  taller,  but  let  that  pass.  You  have 
fine,  sturdy  legs ;  your  eye  is  clear.  Why,  you  have 
nothing  to  blush  for.  What  ails  the  lad  ?  " 

The  red  beneath  the  brown  stain  was  too  ardent  to  be 
hidden.  Garde's  gaze  fell  before  his  admiring  look. 

"  You — haven't  told  me  your  name,"  she  faltered, 
heroically  striving  to  stand  stiffly  and  to  conjure  a  voice 
to  change  the  subject  withal. 


206  Hearts  of  Grace 

"So  I  haven't,"  Adam  agreed.  "Tasked  you  for 
yours  first,  but  no  matter.  I  am  a  mad  lover,  on  my 
way  to  Boston.  My  name  is  Kust,  with  a  spice  of  the 
old  Adam  thrown  in.  If  you  are  going  in  the  same 
direction,  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company." 

Garde  was  going  in  the  same  direction.  She  had 
never  reached  so  far  as  Plymouth.  Footsore  and  weary, 
she  had  trudged  along,  going  less  than  ten  miles  a  day, 
stopping  at  night  with  the  farming  people,  the  wives  of 
whom  she  had  found  most  kind,  and  so  at  last  had  ar 
rived  at  a  farm  near  by  these  cross-roads,  unable  to  go 
any  further.  She  had  therefore  rested  several  days,  and 
only  this  very  morning  she  had  learned,  by  word  from 
another  traveler,  that  David  Donner,  suddenly  afflicted 
by  the  double  woe  of  finding  her  gone  and  himself 
cursed  by  Randolph,  who  had  immediately  set  in  motion 
his  machinery  for  depriving  Massachusetts  of  its  char 
ter,  was  on  his  back,  delirious  and  ill,  perhaps  unto 
death. 

She  was  going  back,  all  contritely,  yearning  over  the 
old  man,  who  had  taken  the  place  of  her  parents  for  so 
many  years,  and  weighted  down  with  a  sense  of  the 
wretchedness  attending  life.  It  was  not  that  her  res 
olution  to  escape  Randolph  had  abated  one  particle  of 
its  stiffness,  that  she  was  turning  about  to  retrace  her 
steps,  it  was  merely  that  her  womanly  love,  her  budding 
mother-instinct,  her  loyalty  and  gratitude  for  her  grand 
father's  many  years  of  kindness  and  patience, — that  all 
these  made  no  other  thought  possible. 

And  now  to  learn  that  Adam  was  traveling  to  Boston 
also,  that  she  should  have  him  for  her  strong  protector 
and  comrade,  this  filled  her  with  such  a  gush  of  delight 


A  Greenwood  Meeting.  207 

that  she  with  difficulty  restrained  herself  from  crying, 
in  joy,  and  the  tendency  to  give  up  and  lean  upon  his 
supporting  arm. 

At  sight  of  him,  indeed,  before  her  mortification  had 
come  upon  her,  for  the  costume,  in  which  it  seemed  to 
her  she  would  rather  be  seen  by  any  other  person  in  the 
world  tham  Adam,  she  had  nearly  run  to  his  arms  and 
sobbed  out  her  gladness.  It  would  have  been  so  wholly 
sweet  to  obey  this  impulse.  Her  love  for  the  big,  hand 
some  fellow  had  leaped  so  exultantly  in  her  breast,  again 
to  see  him  and  to  hear  his  voice,  when  she  had  been  so 
beset  with  troubles.  But  she  had  denied  herself  splen 
didly,  and  now  every  moment  strengthened  her  deter 
mination  to  play  her  part  to  the  end.  Yet  what  joy  it 
would  be  to  travel  back  to  Boston,  through  the  green 
wood,  by  his  side. 

And  being  not  without  her  sense  of  humor,  Garde 
conceived  many  entertaining  possibilities  which  might 
be  elicited  from  the  situation,  the  standpoint  of  man 
to  man  being  so  wholly  different  from  anything  here 
tofore  presented  to  her  ken. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Adam's  last  remark, 
"  I  am  going  to  Boston — or  near  there, — but  you  may 
find  that  I  cannot  walk  fast,  nor  very  far,  in  a  day. 
My  walking  will  doubtless  prove  to  be  like  my  fighting. 
So  that  if  you  are  so  mad  with — with  love,  and  so  eager 
to  hasten,  perhaps "  and  she  left  the  sentence  unfin 
ished. 

"Well,"  said  Adam,  pulling  his  mustache  smartly, 
"  I  confess  I  am  a  bit  hot  on  foot,  and  so  you  would  be, 
young  man,  if  by  any  good  fortune  you  knew  my  sweet 
heart,  yet  I  like  you  well  enough,  and  my  lady  has  such 


2o8  Hearts  of  Grace 

a  heart  that  she  would  counsel  me  to  go  slower,  if  need 
be,  to  lend  any  comfort  or  companionship  to  a  youth  so 
gentle  as  yourself." 

"  I  am  sure  she  would,"  said  Garde,  readily  enough. 

"  Are  you,  though  ?  One  would  think  you  knew 
her,"  said  Adam.  "  Don't  plume  yourself  on  this 
matter  so  prematurely.  Come,  let  us  start." 

"  One  moment,  please,  till  I  can  tie  my  shoe,"  said 
Garde,  who  felt  such  merriment  bubbling  up  in  her 
heart  that  she  was  constrained  to  bend  downward  to  the 
ground  quickly,  to  hide  her  smiles. 

Adam  stood  waiting,  glancing  around  at  the  woods, 
wondering  which  way  his  heart  had  flown,  on  its  light 
some  wings,  in  that  temple  of  beauty.  Garde  looked 
up  at  him  slyly.  He  was  dressed  in  great  brown 
boots,  that  came  above  his  knees,  brown  velvet  trousers, 
a  wine-colored  velvet  coat,  with  a  leather  jerkin  over 
it,  sleeveless  and  long  enough  to  reach  to  the  tops 
of  his  boots,  almost,  and  on  his  head  he  wore  a  large 
slouch  hat,  becoming  and  finishing  to  his  striking 
figure. 

Garde  was  looking  at  the  back  of  his  head  rapturously 
when  he  started  to  turn,  to  see  why  she  made  the  tying 
process  so  deliberate. 

"  I  am  ready,"  she  said,  cheerily,  springing  to  her 
feet.  "  Is  this  the  road  ?  " 

"By  all  the  promptings  of  my  heart,  it  is,"  said 
Adam.  <l  But,  by  the  way,  you  have  not  yet  told  me 
your  name,  my  boy." 

"  Oh, — why — why  my  name  is — John  Rosella."  She 
had  thought  of  her  aunt's  first  name,  on  the  spur  of 


A  Greenwood  Meeting.  209 

the  moment,  and  John  had  been  the  simplest  and  first 
thing  which  had  popped  into  her  head. 

"  John  Rosella,"  repeated  Adam.  "  It  sounds  like 
Spanish.  That  would  account  for  your  dark  complex 
ion."  He  looked  at  her  critically.  "Yes,  you  are  a 
nice,  gentle  boy.  Have  you  ever  been  in  love  ?  " 

"With — with  a  girl  ?  never  !"  said  Garde,  trembling 
with  delight  and  fear  of  being  detected,  especially  if 
she  answered  too  many  questions.  "  Do  tell  me  all 
about  your  lady — lady  love." 

"  That's  a  bit  too  precious  to  tell  to  any  man,"  Adam 
assured  her,  gravely.  "  And  yet,  you  are  so  nearly  like 
a  girl  that  I  can  almost  tell  you  about  her." 

"  What  is  her  name  ? "  asked  Garde,  catching  her 
breath  in  little  quick  gasps. 

"Her  name  ?  Ah,  I  hardly  tell  it  to  myself,  often. 
But  her  name  would  sound  sweet  in  these  woods.  Her 
name  is — now,  mark  you,  don't  you  ask  me  to  repeat  it 
again.  Never  mind  her  name,  anyway.  .  .  .  Well, 
it's  Garde.  You  will  have  to  be  contented  with  that. 
Ah,  but  she  is  the  sweetest,  most  beautiful  little  woman 
in  the  world.  Her  loveliness  goes  all  through,  the  same 
as  beauty  is  everywhere  in  these  woods.  It's  her  nature 
to  be  lovely." 

His  voice  became  an  utterance  of  melody.  It  seemed 
a  part  of  the  forest  tones.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat, 
for  in  his  mind  Garde  stood  before  him,  a  smiling 
dream,  even  as  Garde  actually  walked  beside  him,  a 
smiling  reality. 

"Is  she  tall  ?"  said  Mistress  Merrill. 

"  Yes,  somewhat  taller  than  you,"  said  Adam.  "  Being 
gentle  and  likeable  yon  might  make  one  think  upon  her, 
4 


2io  Hearts  of  Grace 

but  her  voice  is  sweeter  than  yours,  and,  well — she  is  a 
girl,  and  you  are  merely  girlish." 

"  Have  you  loved  her  long  ?  "  said  Garde,  again  cast 
ing  her  gaze  upon  the  ground,  as  she  walked. 

"  Years  ! "  said  Rust.  "  I  have  loved  her  all  my  life, 
for  I  never  began  to  live  till  I  saw  her  first,  and  I  loved 
her  the  moment  I  saw  her. " 

"  And  does  she  love  you  ?  " 

"  Ah,  now  you  approach  forbidden  ground.  It  would 
be  a  sacrilege  for  me  to  prate — even  here  in  these  woods 
— of  her  sweet  thoughts.  I  have  told  you  too  much  al 
ready.  You  are  a  very  devil  of  a  boy,  to  have  gotten  so 
much  from  me,  touching  on  this  subject.  I'll  be  sworn, 
I  don't  know  why  I  have  let  you  draw  me  out  like  this. 
But  I  stop  you  here.  It  is  no  concern  of  yours  whether 
she  likes  me  or  not." 

"  Oh,"  said  Garde.  Then  she  added  slyly,  "  I  should 
think  she  would." 

"  I  thank  you  and  warn  you,  in  a  breath,  young 
man,"  Adam  replied.  "You  have  gotten  the  best  of 
me  already.  Let  good  enough  alone." 

Garde  loved  him  the  more  for  the  sacredness  in  which 
he  held  her  name  and  the  inclination  of  her  heart.  She 
loved  him  for  the  modesty  which  crept  into  his  speech 
and  deportment  when  least  expected.  Loving  him 
thus,  so  fully,  and  in  this  realm,  so  made  for  the  growth 
of  tender  passions,  she  found  it  difficult  to  cease  her 
questions.  It  was  so  wholly  delightful  to  hear  him 
repeat,  again  and  again,  how  he  loved  her.  She  was, 
however,  obedient  by  nature,  and  now  cautious  by  cir 
cumstance. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me  of  your  travels,"  she  said, 


A  Greenwood  Meeting.  211 

this  subject  being  next  in  importance  to  hearing  of  his 
great  affection.  "  I  am  sure  you  could  relate  much  of 
interest,  if  you  are  so  minded." 

"  And  how  shall  you  know  I  have  traveled  ?  "  said 
the  man. 

"  Why—"  Garde  found  herself  confused,  having 
thoughtlessly  spoken  on  a  matter  of  which  she  did 
actually  know,  yet  of  which  she  must  seem  to  be  in 
ignorance.  "  Why — I  would  know  this  from  your  ap 
pearance — your  dress,  to  which  the  young  men  here 
are  not  accustomed.  Have  you  not  recently  come  from 
over  sea  ?  " 

"  I  have,"  said  the  rover,  satisfied  with  her  answer. 
"  I  went  away  seeking  my  fortune — which  still  remains 
to  be  sought." 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind,"  said  Garde,  who  for  the 
moment  was  his  partner,  to  share  all  his  disappoint 
ments.  "  I  mean — I  mean  you  don't  seem  to  mind," 
she  added.  "  I  should  like  to  hear  you  tell  about  your 
adventures." 

Adam,  who  felt  that  he  could  talk  to  this  boy  by  the 
hour,  was  nothing  loath  to  narrate  his  wanderings,  the 
more  especially  as  he  had  always  found  it  difficult  suf- 
ciently  to  praise  his  friend  William  Phipps.  There 
fore,  as  they  walked  onward  together,  Garde  thrilling 
with  her  love,  and  turning  her  eyes  fondly  upon  him, 
whensoever  he  was  unaware,  Adam  told  and  retold  of 
the  fights,  the  hopes,  the  storms,  the  success  in  Eng 
land,  and  the  illness  which  had  finally  given  him  his 
leave  to  go  home  to  his  sweetheart. 

No  lover  of  Nature  ever  lingered  more  fondly  over 
the  sighs  of  trees,  the  fanning  by  of  fragrant  zephyrs, 


212  Hearts  of  Grace 

or  the  love-tales  sung  by  the  birds,  than  did  Garde  on 
his  every  word.  And,  inasmuch  as  she  could  not  cling 
to  his  arm,  when  he  recited  the  perils  through  which  he 
had  come,  she  artfully  coaxed  him  back  to  declarations 
of  love  for  his  sweetheart,  from  time  to  time,  to  give 
some  satisfaction  to  her  yearning. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

LOVE'S  TRAPS  FOE  CONFESSIONS. 

SOME  time  before  nightfall,  the  two  having  shared 
their  luncheons  together  and  wandered  on,  through 
the  delightful  patches  of  sunlight,  slanting  through 
the  trees,  they  came  upon  one  of  the  farms  where 
Garde  had  already  tested  the  hospitality  of  the  good 
people  residing  by  the  highway. 

Here,  by  a  little  dexterity,  and  through  Adam's 
generosity  toward  the  delicate  boy,  to  whom  he  had 
taken  such  a  fancy,  Garde  occupied  the  spare  apart 
ment  she  had  made  her  own  when  headed  in  the  other 
direction,  and  Adam  contented  himself  in  the  hay-loft 
of  the  barn. 

In  the  morning  they  were  up  betimes,  to  greet  an 
other  smiling  sun,  and  so  resumed  their  leisurely 
journey  toward  the  north.  At  noon  they  halted  as  be 
fore,  and  made  a  meal  of  the  stock  of  bread  and  other 
provisions  they  had  been  able  to  secure  at  the  farm 
house. 

Garde  sat  upon  a  mossy  bank,  while  Adam  reclined 
on  a  stone,  somewhat  below  her  woodland  throne. 
Adam  looked  at  her  so  long  and  so  steadfastly  that  she 
grew  most  uneasy,  lest  he  were  about  to  pierce  her 
disguise. 

213 


214  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ? "  she  said,  with  an 
attempt  to  be  boyishly  pert. 

"I  was  looking  at  your  legs,"  said  Adam,  frankly. 
"  They  are  uncommonly  symmetrical,  but  a  shade  too 
pretty  for  a  boy. " 

Garde  immediately  bent  the  plump  objects  of  interest 
underneath  her  and  sat  on  her  heels. 

"  You  find  a  great  deal  of  fault  with  me/'  she  said, 
a  little  vexed. 

"  It's  because  you  have  faults,  as  a  boy,"  Adam  told 
her,  honestly.  "  You  know,  my  lad,  you  could  be  a 
bit  sturdier  and  none  the  worse.  And  yet,  I  like  you 
immensely  as  you  are.  Perhaps  if  you  were  changed, 
you  would  lose  some  charm  and  spoil  it  all.  I  shall  have 
to  let  you  be,  and  content  myself  with  you  as  you  are." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Garde,  already  smiling  at 
him  again,  to  herself.  "  Then  please  make  no  more 
remarks  about  me." 

"  About  your  legs  ?  Well,  I  won't,  since  you  appear 
so  sensitive  about  them.  Mind  you,  they  will  do  well 
enough,  after  all." 

"  Shall  we  go  on  ?  "  Garde  asked  him.  She  was  a 
little  weary  and  would  have  been  glad  of  further  rest, 
but  she  found  she  was  much  more  comfortable  when 
they  were  walking  side  by  side. 

Adam  was  up  at  once,  for  walk  they  never  so  fast,  he 
felt  he  could  by  no  means  come  up  with  his  thoughts 
and  desires,  which  had  run  so  far  ahead  of  them  always. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  say,"  said  he,  as  they  resumed 
the  onward  march.  "  I  have  to  have  my  say  out, 
when  I  think  it.  And  you  know  you  do  puzzle  me 
constantly." 


Love's  Traps  for  Confessions.        215 

"  I  don't  see  why,  or  how,"  said  Garde. 

"  It's  because  I  seem  to  think  I  have  seen  you  some 
where  before.  And  yet  I  know  that  is  impossible, 
hence  I  am  driven  to  think  of  your  girlishness,  for  an 
explanation." 

Garde  said  :  "I  think  this  is  very  much  in  your 
imagination,  Adam  Rust/' 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  corrected  her  comrade.  "  You 
were  patterned  for  a  girl,  my  boy,  depend  upon  it. 
There  was  some  mistake,  or  some  bit  of  trickery,  when 
you  became  one  of  us.  Why,  a  man  couldn't  even 
think  a  little  oath,  in  your  presence." 

"  Then  is  it  not  better  that  I  was  raised  somewhat 
after  the  manner  of  girls  ?  "  said  Garde,  complimented 
as  much  by  the  reverent  tone  in  his  voice  as  by  what  he 
had  said.  "  Does  not  the  rearing  I  have  known  serve 
some  good  purpose,  if  what  you  say  is  so  ?" 

"  By  my  faith,  yes.  But  then  you  do  admit  that 
you  were  treated  in  your  younger  days,  somewhat  as  a 
girl  ?" 

"I  hope  it  is  no  shame  to  confess  this  is  so,"  she 
answered,  looking  down  on  the  ground  to  hide  the 
dancing  of  her  eyes.  "  I  was  treated  somewhat  in  this 
manner  and  I  was  even  dressed  as  a  girl,  at  times." 

"Ah,  that  accounts  for  your  bashfulness  and  so 
forth.  But  you  need  not  blush  for  this.  Bless  your 
heart,  a  man's  the  better  for  it,  if  he  has  something  of 
the  woman  in  his  heart — and  even  in  his  hand." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  murmured  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  yes,  it's  all  right,"  said  Adam  magnanimously. 
He  looked  at  her  with  frank  admiration.  "  Only  it  is 
something  of  a  pity  you  were  not  a  girl,  you  know." 


216  Hearts  of  Grace 

"Oh.     But  why?" 

"  Because  you  would  be  such  an  one  as  a  man  could 
love." 

"  But  not  you,  Adam  Eust.  You  have  said  you  love 
a  sweatheart  already." 

"  I  do — mightily  !  But  if  you  were  a  girl  I  would 
enjoy  finding  a  man  worthy  to  love  you." 

"  But  this  is  unseemly.  You  forget  that  I  am  a 
boy." 

"  Yes,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it  is  easy  to  forget 
that.  But  I  was  merely  supposing.  Say  that  a  man 
had  come  along  when  you  were  dressed  as  a  girl — why, 
what  then?" 

"What  then  indeed,"  said  she,  with  some  spirit, 
' '  would  you  have  talked  like  this  to  me,  of — of  love  ?  " 

"  No,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Rust,  stoutly  enough.  tf  It 
would  then  have  been  quite  another  matter.  As  it  is, 
you  play  the  deuce  with  my  brain  and  fancy.  I  start 
in  to  talk  to  you  as  man  to  man,  and  then  1  think  you 
are  almost  better  fitted  to  be  a  girl — and  you  admit 
you  were  raised  somewhat  in  that  manner,  so  what  can 
one  expect  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  if  your  sweetheart  heard  you  speaking 
thus  ?"  said  Garde,  who  was  enjoying  the  situation 
the  more  for  the  very  danger  of  it.  "  Should  you  like 
to  have  her  hear  you  telling  me  I  should  have  made  a 
girl  that  a  man  could — could  love  ?  " 

"  You  being  a  boy,  why  not  ?  "  Adam  made  answer. 
"Ah,  she  is  too  present  in  my  thought  and  feeling  for 
me  to  say  anything  I  would  be  loth  for  her  to  hear." 

They  had  arrived  at  the  edge  of  a  brook  which  was 
somewhat  swelled  by  the  snow,  back  on  the  hills,  melt- 


Love's  Traps  for  Confessions.        217 

ing  in  the  genial  warmth  of  the  sun.  It  was  nothing 
for  Adam  to  stride  across,  stepping  from  rock  to  rock, 
but  Garde  hesitated,  her  femininity  uppermost  in  a 
moment,  despite  her  utmost  efforts  to  be  boyish. 

"  Here,  give  us  your  hand,"  said  big  Adam,  turning 
back  to  help  her  over.  "  Now,  then,  jump  !  " 

Thrilling  with  the  delight  of  his  warm,  strong  fingers 
closing  so  firmly  on  her  own,  Garde  came  across  the 
brook  in  safety  and  then  reluctantly  released  her  grip 
from  his. 

Adam  had  not  escaped  unscathed  from  this  contact 
of  love,  with  which  she  was  fairly  thrilling.  He  looked 
at  her  oddly,  when  they  were  safe  again  on  the  further 
side.  Garde  caught  her  breath,  in  fear  that  she  had 
betrayed  herself  at  last,  in  that  moment  of  weak 
ness. 

"  You  are  too  much  for  me,  John/'  Adam  admitted, 
shaking  his  head  in  puzzlement.  "  You  are  a  strange 
boy." 

"I  thought  it  was  all  explained,"  Garde  replied, 
anxious  to  get  him  quieted  on  the  subject.  "  How  far 
should  you  say  it  is  to  Boston  ?  " 

< '  I  think  I  begin  to  work  it  out  a  little,"  the  man 
went  on,  musingly.  "  It's  because  you  remind  me  of 
some  one  I  have  known." 

"  Do  I  ? "  said  Garde,  half  afraid  of  her  question. 
"Of  whom  ?" 

"  I  don't  quite  know,"  he  confessed,  looking  at  her 
earnestly.  <f  And  yet  I  ought  to  be  able  to  tell.  It 
was  some  one  I  liked,  I  am  sure." 

"As  much  as  you  did  your  sweetheart  ?" 

Adam  seemed  not  to  hear  this  question.     "Your 


218  Hearts  of  Grace 

complexion,"  he  resumed,  "  makes  me  think  of  a  sweet 
maid  I  knew  at  Jamaica." 

"Oh!" 

"  And  yet  your  eyes  are  like  those  of  a  lovely  French 
damsel  that  I  met,  one  time."  Here  he  sighed. 
"  Your  hands  bring  back  a  memory  of  a  charming 
Countess  at  the  court  of  Charles.  Some  of  your  ways 
make  me  think  of  a  nice  little  Indian  Princess  I  once 
knew  ;  while  your  ankles — but  you  don't  care  to  hear 
about  your  ankles." 

Garde  was  duly  shocked.  She  knew  not  what  to 
think  of  Adam,  who  was  revealing  such  astonishing 
epochs  in  his  life.  This  was  terrible.  Yet  she  wished, 
or  almost  wished,  he  had  gone  on,  just  a  little  further, 
though  she  dared  not  encourage  him  to  do  so,  right  as 
it  might  be  for  her  to  know  it  if  his  heart  had  strayed 
elsewhere,  at  any  time  during  his  absence.  She  was 
alarmed,  curious,  piqued.  She  forgot  that  she  was  a 
boy  to  whom  he  had  spoken. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  presently  answered,  "that  I 
remind  you  of  nothing  but  the  ladies  and  maids  of  these 
countries  where  you  have  traveled." 

"  Well,  you  don't  remind  me  of  the  lads,  that  I  admit," 
said  Adam. 

Garde  made  up  her  mind  to  profit  by  the  occasion. 
She  piled  her  little  courage  up  to  the  top-most  mark. 

"  And  who  was  the  little  maid  of  Jamaica  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Oh,  she  was  as  sweet  a  little  thing  as  ever  prattled 
Spanish,"  Rust  replied,  with  a  reminiscent  look  in  his 
eyes.  "  You  would  have  liked  her,  I  know." 

Garde  entertained  and  reserved  her  own  opinion  on 


Love's  Traps  for  Confessions.        219 

that  point.  "Well— did  she  like  you?"  she  asked, 
indifferently. 

"Oh  yes,  she  said  she  did,  and  I  am  sure  you  could 
depend  upon  her  to  tell  the  truth.  She  used  to  like  to 
sit  on  my  knee,  dear  little  thing  !  " 

Garde  gasped.  It  was  fortunate  that  Adam's  mind 
was  occupied  with  memories.  His  perfidy  was  coming 
forth  finely.  She  knew  not  whether  she  wished  to  cry 
or  to  stamp  her  foot  in  anger.  She  controlled  her  im 
pulses  heroically. 

"About  how  old  was  she?"  was  her  next  ques 
tion. 

"Three,  I  should  say,"  said  Adam.  "She  was  a 
pitiful  little  thing,  more  than  pretty.  In  a  way  she 
made  me  think  of  Garde,  so  I  couldn't  help  but  like 
her." 

Garde  was  flooded,  all  through  her  being,  with  feel 
ings  of  love  and  penitence.  To  think  that  she  had  en 
tertained  for  a  moment  a  notion  that  Adam — and 
yet,  stay,  there  were  the  others, — dames  and  countesses. 
They  could  not  all  have  been  mere  tots  of  children. 
Then  she  wondered  if  it  were  fair,  thus  to  try  to  trap 
the  poor  fellow  and  take  advantage  of  him,  to  make  him 
confess  these  subjects  as  to  another  man.  Of  course  for 
his  own  good  it  might  be  better  to  let  him  tell.  And 
she  would  understand  him  so  much  more  thoroughly. 

<l  Was  the  French  damsel  only  three  also  ?  "  she  sum 
moned  courage  to  inquire. 

"Oh  dear,  no.  She  was  three  and  ninety,  but  still 
sprightly  in  the  minuet  and  with  eyes  that  could  easily 
have  lighted  the  sun  again,  had  he  chanced  to  go  out. 
I  shouldn't  have  been  sorry  to  have  her  for  a  mother — 


22O  Hearts  of  Grace 

except  that  I  flatter  myself  I  had  a  better  one — once 
upon  a  time." 

Garde  would  have  felt  like  a  coward  indeed,  had  she 
desired  to  ask  him  of  any  of  the  others.  Having  done 
him  a  little  measure  of  injustice,  she  made  it  up  to  him 
by  loving  him  the  more,  now  that  she  found  him  so  in 
nocent.  Nevertheless  she  had  ears  to  listen  with  when 
he  volunteered  some  information  about  the  countess  he 
had  seen  and  admired  at  the  court  of  Charles. 

It  turned  out,  however,  that  he  had  merely  seen  her 
safely  married  to  one  of  his  royal  friends,  for  whose 
happiness  he  had  the  most  sincere  of  wishes. 

Garde  felt  her  spirit  of  daring  and  merriment  return. 
It  was  so  tempting  to  play  around  the  point  of  her  iden 
tity  that  she  could  not  altogether  resist  the  impulse  of 
her  nature,  to  keep  him  talking. 

"  I  seem  to  be  happy  in  reminding  you  of  many  per 
sons/'  she  said.  "  But  I  think  I  would  rather  remind 
you  of  some  one  else.  Since  you  claim  to  be  so  much 
in  love,  it  would  compliment  me  more  if  I  could  remind 
you  of  your  Mistress  Garde. " 

" Maybe  you  would,"  said  Adam,  "only  that  T  am 
getting  so  near  to  Boston  that  such  a  reminiscence,  in 
a  boy,  would  be  sheer  impertinence." 


CHAPTEK  XXVI. 

A  HOLIDAY  ENDED. 

HAVING  the  fortune  to  be  overtaken  by  a  good- 
natured  farmer,  who  was  trotting  his  horses  northward, 
along  their  road,  from  a  trip  to  market,  the  travelers 
got  the  benefit  of  a  lift  that  landed  them  within  a  few 
hours'  walk  of  Boston.  However,  as  the  farmer's  jour 
ney  ended  where  there  were  no  accommodations,  and 
there  was  still  another  hour  of  light,  which  would  suf 
fice  to  bring  them  to  a  small  hostelry,  where  Garde 
knew  she  could  make  such  arrangements  as  she  desired, 
they  tramped  onward  as  before. 

With  every  step  that  brought  them  further  toward 
their  destination  Adam  waxed  more  and  more  impa 
tient  to  hurry,  while  Garde  found  her  courage  and  her 
footsteps  lagging. 

She  had  momentarily  forgotten  her  troubles,  in  the 
joy  of  being  with  Adam,  strolling  for  hours  through 
the  vales  of  peace  and  loveliness,  but  now  her  tribula 
tions  returned,  with  compound  interest.  She  yearned 
over  her  smitten  grandfather,  yet  she  feared  for  what  he 
might  do,  when  he  should  see  her  again  within  his  reach, 
for  if  he  had  been  well-nigh  insane  when  she  saw  him 
last,  how  much  more  violent  he  might  now  have  be 
come. 

She  trembled  likewise  at  the  thought  of  .Randolph, 

221 


222  Hearts  of  Grace 

and  the  measures  of  revenge  which  he  might  adopt, 
backed  by  the  power  which  was  sufficient  to  uphold  or 
to  overthrow  the  charter.  From  these  meditations  she 
was  tempted  to  fly  to  Adam's  arms  and  implore  his  pro 
tection.  It  afforded  her  infinite  relief  to  think  that  he 
would  at  least  be  near.  If  the  worst  came  of  her  re 
turning,  she  would  manage  to  go  to  him,  by  some 
means,  she  was  certain,  and  under  the  stress  of  circum 
stances  she  would  not  be  deemed  immodest  in  beseech 
ing  his  protection,  for  which  purpose  she  would  con 
sent  immediately  to  become  his  wife. 

Eager  to  justify  herself  in  what  she  had  done,  refus 
ing  to  believe  that  honor  had  been  as  nothing  and  Ran 
dolph's  promises  all  important,  she  framed  many  intro 
ductions  to  the  subject,  before  she  could  finally  begin 
to  question  her  fellow-traveler  upon  it. 

She  then  began  by  reciting  to  him  somewhat  of  the 
news  of  Boston  town.  She  told  of  the  fear  for  the 
charter,  which  had  become  a  mania  with  the  older 
patriots,  of  the  baleful  power  of  Randolph  and  of  the 
culminations  which  at  last  he  was  beginning  to  work 
against  the  colony.  Adam  waxed  so  wroth  against 
Randolph,  whom  he  remembered  distinctly,  that  she 
was  much  encouraged  to  go  on  with  a  hypothetical  case 
which  she  soon  invented. 

She  dared  not  connect  the  name  of  Randolph  directly 
with  her  story  and  questions,  lest  Adam,  when  he 
arrived  in  Boston,  should  learn  more,  concerning  the 
whole  wretched  business,  and  know  it  was  she  who  had 
undergone  the  ordeal.  Also  it  required  a  great  concen 
tration  of  her  courage,  backed  by  repeated  assurances  to 
herself  that  Adam  thought  her  a  youth,  before  she 


A  Holiday  Ended.  223 

could  approach  the  subject  in  any  manner  whatsoever. 
Yet  she  knew  she  would  have  no  such  opportunity  to 
speak  to  him  again  with  anything  like  the  freedom 
which  was  now  possible,  and  Goody  Dune  had  made 
her  a  sensible  young  woman. 

"  Suppose,"  she  finally  said,  "  that  a  man  who  had 
influence  with  the  King  threatened  to  use  all  his  power 
against  the  colony  and  its  charter,  if  some  young  girl 
should  refuse  to  become  his  wife.  Would  it  be  her 
duty  to  marry  the  man  ?  " 

"  That  would  depend  on  her  spirit  of  patriotism," 
said  Adam.  "  If  she  believed  she  could  save  the  colony 
from  a  grave  danger,  it  seems  to  me  she  ought  to  do 
so." 

«  Yes— I  think  so  too,"  said  Garde,  honestly.  "  But 
suppose  she  found  out  that  the  man  had  been  very 
false." 

"  In  what  manner  ?  " 

' '  Well, — that  he  had  deceived  another  young  woman." 

"  Do  you  mean  betrayed  some  other  young  woman  ?  " 
said  Adam  bluntly. 

Garde  averted  her  gaze  and  answered  :  "  Yes." 

"  Well,  suppose  this  was  so,  then  what  is  your  ques 
tion?" 

"  The  question  is,  what  do  you  think  the  first  young 
woman  should  do  then — after  she  found  out  that — that 
this  was  true  ?  " 

"  That  would  depend  again  on  the  particular  young 
woman,"  said  Bust,  who  believed  he  was  speaking  as 
man  to  man,  and  who  knew  that  when  women  are 
betrayed  it  is  not  always  the  fault  wholly  of  the  male- 
being  in  the  case.  "  If  she  wanted  to  save  the  charter, 


224  Hearts  of  Grace 

or  anything  of  that  sort,  I  don't  see  how  this  would 
alter  the  case  particularly." 

"  You  wouldn't  excuse  the  man  ?  "  said  Garde,  turn 
ing  pale  under  her  brown  stain. 

Adam  had  in  mind  a  painful  incident  which  had 
occurred  in  the  life  of  a  friend  of  his  in  England.  "  I 
might,"  he  answered.  "  Possibly  a  great  deal  could  be 
said  in  defense  of  the  poor  devil,  in  some  way  or 
another." 

"  But,"  insisted  Garde,  somewhat  desperately,  "  if 
you  were  a  girl  you  wouldn't  marry  such  a  man  ?  " 

"  If  I  were  a  girl  and  I  loved  him,"  said  Rust,  still 
thinking  of  the  case  of  his  friend,  "  why — I  think 
perhaps  I  should." 

"  But  if  you  hated  and  loathed  him  ?"  Garde  almost 
cried. 

"  Oh,  that  is  quite  a  different  matter.  If  hate 
entered  in,  I  should  welcome  any  excuse  to  get  away. 
In  the  actual  case  of  which  I  was  thinking,  it  seems  to 

me  the  girl  ought  to  forgive But  I  had  forgotten 

all  about  the  element  of  the  charter,  which  we  were  sup 
posing  was  to  figure  in  the  case." 

Garde  cared  for  nothing  further  about  the  discussion. 
He  had  justified  her,  at  least  partially.  She  had 
always  felt  that  Randolph  would  have  betrayed  the 
colony,  even  had  she  sacrificed  herself  and  Adam,  to 
marry  him,  as  her  grandfather  had  desired.  She  was 
now  a  little  troubled  that  Adam  could  think  so  nearly 
as  her  grandfather  had  done  ;  that  he  could  really  con 
done  such  a  terrible  dishonor  in  a  fellow-man.  Had  it 
not  been  that,  under  cover  of  her  present  disguise  she 
had  proved  how  true  and  good  her  Adam  was,  she  would 


A  Holiday  Ended.  225 

have  been  pained  and  perhaps  worried  by  his  latitude 
of  thought.  She  had  to  finish  the  subject,  so  she 
said  : 

"  If  she — this  girl — not  only  hated  the  man,  but  felt 
sure  he  would  not  keep  his  promise  to  do  good  for  the 
charter,  but  would  deceive  her  and  every  one  else,  just 
as  he  had  deceived  the  other  girl — then  what  ought  she 
to  do?" 

"  It  would  be  high  time,  under  those  circumstances," 
replied  her  companion,  "  to  refuse  absolutely,  or  to 
ship  on  the  first  departing  vessel,  or  to  do  anything  else 
that  would  be  quick  and  to  the  point." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  think,"  said  Garde,  now  well 
satisfied. 

"  It's  more  important  for  us,  my  boy,  to  think  of 
what  we  shall  do  when  we  arrive  in  Boston,  to-morrow," 
Adam  now  remarked.  "  By  the  way,  do  you  know 
anybody  there  ?  " 

Garde  hesitated  before  answering.  She  had  to  be 
clever.  "Nobody  there  will  know  me  when  I  get 
there,"  she  said,  "unless  it  is  some  one  I  might  once 
have  known." 

Rust  did  not  analyze  the  ambiguity  of  this  reply.  He 
was  engrossed  with  other  reflections. 

"  Have  you  got  any  money  ?  "  he  asked  her  next. 
"  Because  if  you  haven't  you  can  have  the  half  of  mine, 
— not  much  to  speak  of,  but  enough  to  feed  you  and 
put  you  to  bed.  I  hope  to  get  into  some  better  tavern 
than  the  Crow  and  Arrow." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Garde,  looking  at  him  slyly  with 
a  tender  light  of  love  in  her  eyes,  "I  think  I  have 
enough  for  a  time." 
'5 


226  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  If  we  stop  at  the  same  tavern,  and  have  our  meals 
served  together,  it  will  cost  you  less,"  Adam  informed 
her  practically,  "and  besides,  I  have  grown  so  fond  of 
you,  my  boy,  that  I  should  be  sorry  to  lose  sight  of  you, 
in  the  town." 

"But  the  sooner  you  lose  sight  of  me,  the  sooner  you 
will  see  your  sweetheart,"  said  Garde,  with  difficulty 
restraining  her  lips  from  curving  in  a  smile. 

"  Ah,  but  I  shall  wish  her  to  know  you,"  said  Adam, 
generously.  "For  to  no  one  else  save  you  have  I  ever 
been  able  to  talk  of  my  love  for  her  sweet  self,  and  this 
is  something  of  a  miracle.  As  I  think  upon  it,  you  do 
remind  me  of  her  often,  by  your  voice,  though  it  is  not 
so  sweet  as  hers,  as  I  may  have  said  before,  and  by 
other  tokens,  which  I  am  at  a  loss  to  define.  But 
because  of  these  things,  I  would  fight  for  you,  and  with 
her  sweet  approval." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Garde.  "  I  trust  you  will 
have  great  joy  when  you  find  her  again.  And  you  may 
tell  her  for  me,  if  you  will,  that — well,  that  she  should 
love  you  with  her  whole  soul, — but  she  does  already,  I 
am  sure." 

"  You  are  a  kind  as  well  as  a  gentle  boy,"  said  Adam 
to  her  gravely.  "  I  am  glad  it  could  be  no  matter  to 
her  for  me  to  like  you  so  exceedingly,  you  being  a  boy, 
— but,  boy,  you  do  bedevil  my  brain  with  your  girlish 
ways.  I  shall  never  explain  you,  111  be  sworn." 

''Here  is  where  we  turn,  for  the  night's  rest,"  Garde 
replied,  avoiding  the  puzzled  look  which  Eust  directed 
to  her  face.  "  "We  have  had  a  pleasant  journey  of  it 
together.  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  Let's  wait  till  it's  finished  before  we  sum  it  up," 


A  Holiday  Ended.  227 

said  Adam.  "  To-morrow  we  have  a  few  more  hours, 
ere  we  reach  the  town,  and  these  may  be  the  pleasantest 
of  all." 

Yet  when  the  boy  said  good  night  to  him,  after  their 
supper,  he  felt  a  strange  sense  of  loss  for  which  he  was 
wholly  unable  to  account. 

In  the  morning  the  matter  was  somewhat  explained. 
The  boy  had  arisen  before  the  sun  and  gone  on  her  way 
without  him. 

It  was  not  without  a  little  pang  in  his  heart  that  the 
rover  trudged  onward,  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

IN"  BOSTON  TOWN". 

GARDE  fairly  ran,  when  she  made  her  early  morning 
start.  She  had  not  been  able  to  think  of  any  other 
solution  of  the  problem  of  getting  back  to  her  own 
proper  sphere  without  permitting  Adam  to  become 
aware  of  the  whole  situation.  She  had  not  come  to  her 
resolution  to  cope  with  the  difficulty  thus  without  many 
little  sighs  of  regret  and  a  few  little  fears  of  what  might 
be  the  consequences.  Nevertheless,  she  had  seen  the 
necessity  of  prompt  action,  after  which  she  had  felt  a 
desire  only  for  haste.  She  was,  however,  buoyed  up 
by  the  glad  thought  that  Adam  would  not  be  long  be 
hind  her,  in  his  march  to  town,  hence  she  would  soon 
be  seeing  him  there,  under  circumstances  which  would 
make  it  possible  to  accept  his  love  and  to  lean  upon 
his  strong,  protecting  arm. 

The  sun  was  no  more  than  an  hour  up  in  the  sky 
when  she  came  to  the  outskirts  of  Boston  and  ran 
quickly  on  to  Goody  Dune's.  Goody  was  not  at  all  sur 
prised  to  see  her  thus  returning.  Indeed  she  had  looked 
to  see  her  back  at  least  a  week  earlier.  The  old  woman, 
preparing  against  this  moment,  had  plaited  the  long  locks 
of  hair  which  Garde  had  been  obliged  to  leave  behind, 
and  these  she  helped  the  truant  to  wind  upon  her  head, 
with  some  semblance  of  natural  growth,  an  effect  which 

228 


In  Boston  Town.  229 

she  heightened  by  providing  a  small  lace  cap,  which 
made  of  Mistress  Merrill  a  very  demure-appearing  little 
person. 

The  brown  stain  rapidly  succumbed  to  Goody's  treat 
ment  with  vinegar.  Garde  emerged  from  the  mask  as 
rosy  and  cream  white  as  an  apple,  for  the  open  air  and 
the  days  with  Adam  had  wrought  such  evidence  of 
health  and  happiness  upon  her  that  not  the  dread  of 
what  she  might  discover  at  home,  nor  any  excitement 
of  being  in  the  land  of  her  enemy,  could  make  any  pale 
ness  in  her  face  of  more  than  a  moment's  duration.  She 
was  too  excited  to  eat,  although  Goody  tried  to  urge 
her  to  take  even  a  cup  of  tea,  and  so  she  went  on  to 
her  grandfather's  house,  and  let  herself  in,  at  the  rear. 

As  Granther  Donner's  sister  had  passed  away  a  num 
ber  of  years  before,  he  had  been  left  quite  to  himself 
when  Garde  decamped.  But  when  his  illness  came  so 
suddenly  upon  him,  Mrs.  Soam  and  Prudence,  both 
persuaded  that  Garde  was  almost,  if  not  entirely,  in  the 
right,  appeared  dutifully  at  his  bedside  as  ministering 
angels. 

Thus  Garde,  upon  entering  the  kitchen,  found  her 
Aunt  Gertrude  engaged  in  preparing  a  breakfast.  The 
good  lady  was  startled. 

"  Why — Garde  I"  she  gasped.  "Oh,  dear  me,  is  it 
really  you  ?  Child,  where  have  you  been  ?  Oh,  David 
is  very  ill  indeed.  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  home  ! " 

"  I  came  because  I  heard  he  was  ill,"  said  Garde,  who 
was  more  calm  than  might  have  been  expected.  "I 
didn't  know  you  were  here.  It  was  real  good  of  you  to 
come,  dear  aunty.  I  suppose  you  will  scold  me." 

" It  was  all  a  terrible  thing,"  said  her  aunt,  "but 


230  Hearts  of  Grace 

John  says  he  thinks  Mr.  Kandolph  meant  to  take  away 
our  charter  anyway." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  of  it ! "  cried  Garde,  so  glad  to  hear 
of  a  partisan.  "  If  I  hadn't  believed  that,  I  don't 
think  I  should  ever  have  run  away.  Oh,  thank  you,  so 
much,  dear  aunty  !  I  am  so  glad.  God  bless  Uncle 
John  !  I  knew  I  was  right ! " 

"  But  your  uncle  and  all  of  us  are  very  sad,"  her 
aunt  proceeded  to  add.  "  They  don't  think  we  will 
have  the  charter  through  the  summer.  It  is  a  terrible 
time,  but  they  all  say  that  Randolph  must  have  been 
getting  ready,  or  he  couldn't  have  done  so  much  so 
quickly.  It  is  a  sad  day  for  Massachusetts.  But,  there, 
run  in  and  see  David,  do, — but,  dearie,  don't  be  sur 
prised  if  he  doesn't  seem  to  know  you." 

In  the  dining-room  Garde  and  Prudence  met,  a  mo 
ment  later. 

"  Good  morning,  Garde,"  said  the  cousin,  without 
the  slightest  sign  of  emotion. 

Garde  kissed  her,  impulsively.  te  Oh,  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you,  dear  !  "  she  said.  Indeed  love  had  so  wrought 
upon  her  that  she  felt  she  had  never  so  cared  for  any 
one  before  as  she  did  for  all  these  dear  ones  now. 

She  hastened  on  to  her  grandfather,  and  Prudence 
was  left  there,  looking  where  her  cousin  had  gone  and 
solemnly  wishing  she  also  might  do  something  emotional 
and  startling. 

Bat  a  few  hours  only  sufficed  to  reduce  the  spirit  of 
wildness  and  youthful  exhilaration  which  Garde  had 
brought  with  her  back  from  the  road  in  the  forest.  To 
hear  the  old  patriot  raving,  childishly,  and  crying  and 
praying  over  the  charter  and  over  Garde  as  a  baby, 


In  Boston  Town.  231 

which  was  the  way  he  seemed  to  remember  his  grand 
child,  was  a  thing  that  rent  her  heart  and  drove  all  joy 
from  the  life  of  care  into  which  she  came,  in  her  mood 
of  penitence  and  quiet. 

The  days  slipped  by  and  became  weeks.  Prudence 
returned  to  her  father  at  once.  Goodwife  Soam  re 
mained  to  help  Garde  over  the  crisis,  and  then  she  too 
left  the  girl  with  the  stricken  old  man,  who  had  become 
a  prattling  child,  on  whom  the  word  "  Charter  "  acted 
like  a  shock  to  make  him  instantly  insane  against  his 
daughter's  child. 

In  the  meantime  Adam  Rust,  having  come  to  Boston 
in  a  moment  when  excitement,  despair  and  bitter  feel 
ing,  such  as  the  town  nor  the  colony  had  ever  known 
before,  and  which  completely  altered  the  Puritan  peo 
ple,  had  heard  a  garbled  story  of  Randolph's  perfidy 
and  his  attempt  to  marry  Garde  which  made  his  blood 
boil.  Fortunately  the  fact  that  Garde  had  run  away 
had  been  kept  so  close  a  secret,  that  more  persons  had 
heard  how  devotedly  she  was  attending  David  Donner 
than  knew  any  hint  of  her  escapade.  Adam  having 
first  paid  his  respects  to  Mrs.  Phipps,  to  whom  he  de 
livered  the  Captain's  messages  and  letters,  had  found 
himself  apartments  in  a  tavern  quite  removed  from  the 
Crow  and  Arrow,  where  he  had  been  able  easily  to  avoid 
all  his  former  acquaintances  of  Boston.  He  might 
have  desired  to  search  out  Wainsworth,  but  Henry  was 
away  at  Salem.  Randolph,  of  whom  Adam  naturally 
thought,  had  betaken  himself  to  New  York,  there  to 
conclude  some  details  of  snatching  the  charter  from 
the  colony  of  Massachusetts. 

Once  settled,  Adam  lost  no  time  in  searching  for 


232  Hearts  of  Grace 

Garde.  Thus  he  was  soon  made  aware  of  the  state  of 
the  Dormer  household,  into  the  affairs  of  which  it  would 
have  been  anything  but  thoughtful  and  kind  to  obtrude 
his  presence.  With  a  courteous  patience  he  set  himself 
to  wait  for  a  seemly  moment  in  which  to  apprise  Garde  of 
his  reappearance.  He  told  himself  that,  as  she  had  no 
intimation  that  he  had  returned  to  Boston,  it  would  be  a 
greater  kindness  to  keep  himself  in  the  background, 
until  her  trials  should  be  lessened. 

Naturally  all  these  various  matters  had  somewhat 
obliterated  from  his  mind  the  thoughts  of  the  youth 
with  whom  he  had  traveled  from  the  environs  of  Ply 
mouth.  While  he  was  curbing  his  spirit  and  his  too 
impatient  love,  a  message  arrived,  in  care  of  Goodwife 
Phipps,  from  Captain  William  Kidd,  to  the  effect  that 
the  beef-eaters,  far  from  recuperating  after  their  voy 
age,  had  become  seriously  ill,  and  were  begging  each  day 
for  the  "  Sachem." 

Rust  had  been  contemplating  the  acceptance  of  an 
offer  from  Mrs.  Phipps  to  assume  command  at  the  ship 
yard,  the  foreman  in  charge  being  then  arrogating  pow 
ers  unto  himself  which  were  not  at  all  quieting.  Adam 
reflected  that  if  he  took  this  place  he  could  settle  down, 
marry  his  sweetheart  presently,  and  become  a  sober 
citizen. 

With  the  advent  of  the  message  from  the  beef-eaters, 
he  was  completely  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  He 
yearned  over  these  faithful  companions,  whose  affec 
tion  had  been  repeatedly  demonstrated,  under  cir 
cumstances  the  most  trying.  If  they  should  die  while 
he  remained  away,  selfishly  denying  them  so  little  a 
thing  as  his  presence,  he  would  never  obtain  his  own 


In  Boston  Town.  233 

forgiveness.  Yet  he  could  not  go  to  New  York,  or 
any  other  where  on  earth,  without  first  having  at  least 
seen  Garde.  Indeed  he  reflected  now  that  mayhap  it 
had  been  a  mistaken  kindness  for  him  to  remain  away 
from  her  side  so  long.  Should  he  not  have  gone  to  her 
long  before,  and  offered  what  service  he  could  render 
in  her  trial  ? 

As  a  matter  of  fact  he  had  been  kind  as  it  was,  for 
Garde  had  hardly  enjoyed  a  moment  in  which  to  do  so 
much  as  to  think  of  love  and  her  lover.  Her  grand 
father  had  occupied  her  attention  day  and  night. 
She  had  stinted  him  in  nothing,  else  with  her  spirit  of 
penitence  upon  her — for  all  that  she  had  helped  to 
hasten  upon  him — she  could  never  have  had  any  peace 
of  mind  nor  contentment  in  her  soul. 

But  at  last,  when  the  old  man  was  out  of  danger, 
sitting  in  his  chair  by  the  hour,  she  had  time  to  think 
of  Adam  again  and  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  he  had 
never  attempted  to  see  her.  She  answered  herself  by 
saying  it  was  better  that  he  had  not  done  so,  but  then, 
when  she  suddenly  thought  that  he  might  have  heard 
all  manner  of  wild  stories,  and  might  indeed  have  gone 
away,  angered  and  not  understanding  the  truth,  she 
yearned  for  him  feverishly. 

As  if  the  message  of  her  love  flew  unerringly  to  him, 
Adam  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  thinking  of  going  to 
the  beef-eaters,  determined  to  see  his  sweetheart,  cost 
what  it  might. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


AFTER  nearly  a  week  of  rain  and  dull,  gray  skies,  the 
weather  was  again  entrancing.  The  warm,  soporific 
breeze  which  played  through  the  house  lulled  Grand- 
ther  Donner  off  to  sleep,  as  he  sat  in  his  chair,  staring 
at  vacancy  and  rubbing  his  thumb  across  the  ends  of 
his  fingers. 

Garde,  responding  to  the  mood  of  coming  summer, 
could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  go  out  into  the  garden, 
which  to  her  would  always  be  associated  with  her  child 
ish  meeting  with  Adam  Rust,  and  which  therefore  now 
made  of  her  yearning  to  see  him  a  positive  force. 

Thus  it  doubtless  appeared  to  her  as  an  answer  to 
her  longing  when  she  felt  a  presence  and  glanced  np  at 
the  gate,  to  see  him  standing  there,  as  he  had  so  many 
years  before,  with  two  of  the  pickets  clasped  in  his 
big,  strong  hands. 

Her  heart  gave  a  leap  that  almost  hurt,  so  suddenly 
did  it  send  the  ecstasy  bounding  through  her  veins. 
Yet  so  sublimated  was  the  look  on  Adam's  face,  as, 
with  parted  lips  and  visible  color  rising  and  falling  in 
his  face,  he  gazed  at  her,  steadfastly,  and  as  one  en 
tranced,  that  she  went  toward  him  as  slowly  as  if 
walking  might  disturb  the  spell. 

One  of  her  hands,  like  a  homing  dove,  came  up  to 
234 


Love's  Garden.  235 

press  on  her  bosom  above  her  heart.  She  was  pale,  for 
the  cares  of  those  weeks  had  bleached  the  rose-tints 
from  her  cheeks.  Nevertheless,  the  moment  painted 
them  with  vestal  flames  of  love's  own  lamp,  as  she 
looked  into  Adam's  eyes  and  saw  the  tender  passion 
abiding  there. 

"Adam,  I  prithee  come  in,"  she  said,  in  a  soft 
murmur,  unconsciously  repeating  what  she  had  said 
when  first  he  had  leaned  upon  this  gate. 

As  one  approaching  something  sacred,  Adam  came 
in  and  took  her  two  hands  in  his.  He  raised  them 
slowly  to  his  lips,  and  then  pressed  them  together 
against  his  breast. 

"Garde,"  he  said,  almost  whispering.  "Garde. 
My  little  Garde." 

"  Oh,  Adam,"  she  answered. 

They  looked  at  one  another  and  smiled,  she  through 
shining  tears.  Then  they  laughed,  for  there  were  no 
words,  there  was  nothing  which  could  absolutely  ex 
press  their  overflowing  joy,  but  their  laughing,  which 
was  wholly  spontaneous,  came  the  nearest. 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  so  afraid  this  moment  would 
never  come,"  said  Garde,  presently,  when  she  could 
trust  herself  to  speak.  "  It  has  been  such  a  long,  long 
time  to  wait." 

"  I  love  you.  Garde,  dearest,  I  love  you,"  said 
Adam.  "  I  love  to  say  that  I  love  you.  I  could  say 
it  all  day  :  '  Garde,  I  love  you.  Garde,  I  love  you, 
dear,  and  love  you/  I  have  told  every  star  in  the 
heavens  to  tell  you  how  I  love  you,  dear.  But  I  would 
rather  tell  you  myself.  Let  me  see  you.  Let  me  look 
at  you,  sweetheart."  He  still  held  her  hands,  but  at 


236  Hearts  of  Grace 

arms'  length  away,  and  looked  at  her  blushing  face  with 
such  an  adoration  in  his  eyes  as  she  had  never  beheld. 

Indeed,  Adam's  passion  had  swept  her  from  her  feet. 
It  possessed  her,  enveloped  her  form,  held  her  enthralled 
in  an  ecstasy  so  profound  that  she  gasped  to  catch  her 
breath,  while  her  heart  leaped  as  if  it  were  pealing  out 
her  happiness. 

They  were  standing  thus,  oblivious  of  everything, 
when  a  sour-visaged  Puritan,  passing  by  the  gate,  halted 
a  moment  to  look  at  them  malignantly.  It  was  none 
other  than  Isaiah  Pinchbecker,  the  scolding  hypocrite 
who  had  danced  to  Adam's  fiddling,  several  years  be 
fore.  He  suddenly  gave  himself  a  nudge  in  the  ribs. 
His  eyes  lighted  up  with  grim  satisfaction.  He  had 
recognized  the  rover,  and  with  news  in  his  narrow 
head  he  hastened  away,  prodding  himself  assiduously 
as  he  went. 

In  the  meantime,  Grandther  Donner,  whose  naps 
lasted  hardly  as  long  as  forty  winks,  had  awakened. 
He  started  from  his  sleep  as  if  he  had  suddenly  caught 
himself  neglecting  to  watch  the  charter.  Glancing 
hastily  about  the  room,  he  missed  Garde  at  once.  In 
his  brain,  two  cells  had  broken  their  walls  so  that  their 
substance  commingled,  till  Garde  and  the  charter  seemed 
at  times  the  same,  and  always  so  interlinked  that  he 
dared  not  let  her  go  a  yard  from  his  sight. 

He  tottered  to  his  feet,  and  rubbing  his  thumb 
diligently  across  the  ends  of  his  fingers,  went  out  at 
the  open  door,  toward  his  grandchild,  guided  by  some 
sense  which  in  an  animal  is  often  highly  developed. 
He  came  upon  the  scene  in  the  garden  just  as  Adam, 
after  looking  his  heart  full,  nearly  to  bursting,  had 


Love's  Garden.  237 

drawn  Garde  close  again,  to  kiss  her  hands  in  uncon- 
tainable  joy. 

At  sight  of  Adam's  costume,  which  was  not  a  great 
departure  from  that  of  the  Royalists  of  the  day,  in 
contradistinction  from  that  of  the  Puritans,  David 
Donner  flew  into  a  violent  rage.  He  raised  his  two 
palsied  hands  above  his  head  and  screamed. 

"  Garde!"  he  cried,  "Garde!  Kill  that  man- 
Kill  him  !— kill  him  !  The  charter  !  The  King's 
devil !  Kill  him  !  He's  ripping  the  charter  to  pieces 
with  his  teeth  ! " 

He  came  running  toward  them,  clawing  his  nails 
down  across  his  face  till  he  made  his  pale  cheeks  bleed, 
and  tore  out  little  waving  filaments,  like  gossamer,  from 
his  snow-white  hair.  Almost  at  their  feet  he  fell  full 
length,  where  he  struck  at  the  soil  and  dug  in  his 
finger  nails,  frantically,  all  the  while  making  terrible 
sounds  in  his  paroxysm,  most  dreadful  to  hear. 

Adam  and  Garde  had  started,  he  merely  alert  in  the 
presence  of  the  unexpected,  she  in  a  fear  that  sent  the 
color  from  her  face  so  abruptly  that  it  seemed  she  must 
swoon  at  once.  She  uttered  one  little  cry,  clung  gal- 
vanically  to  Adam's  fingers  for  a  second,  and  then  bent 
quickly  down  to  place  her  hand  on  the  old  man's 
head. 

His  delirious  fury  lasted  but  a  moment.  It  then 
subsided  as  quickly  as  it  had  come,  leaving  him  limp, 
exhausted,  dull-eyed  and  panting  like  some  run-down 
animal.  A  more  pitiable  sight  than  he  then  became,  as 
he  began  to  weep,  shaken  by  the  convulsive  sobs  which 
sometimes  possess  the  frame  of  a  man,  Adam  hoped  he 
should  never  be  obliged  to  witness. 


238  Hearts  of  Grace 

Well  as  he  understood  that  the  sight  of  himself  had 
precipitated  this  painful  episode,  Adam  was  also  now 
aware  that  the  old  man,  for  the  moment,  saw  and  com 
prehended  nothing.  He  therefore  lifted  him  tenderly 
up  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  into  the  house,  placing 
him  gently  down  on  a  lounge  which  he  readily  saw  had 
been  recently  employed  for  the  old  man's  couch. 

Garde  had  followed,  her  hands  clasped  together,  the 
look  of  a  tired  mother  in  her  face,  making  it  in 
finitely  sweet  and  patient. 

"  Garde,  dear,  forgive  me,"  said  Adam.  "  I  came 
too  soon  to  see  you." 

"  Oh  Adam  !  "  she  said,  sadly.  "  In  a  few  days,  a 
week,  dear,  he  is  sure  to  be  better." 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  ?  "  said  Adam,  from 
the  depths  of  his  distress  and  sympathy  and  love. 

"Oh,  he  is  coming  back  to  himself.  Go,  Adam, 
please,"  said  Garde,  "  don't  wait,  dear,  please.  Come 
back  to  the  gate,  this  evening." 

Adam  went  without  so  much  as  waiting  to  say  good- 
by,  for  Garde  had  turned  to  her  grandfather  quickly, 
and  anything  further  he  might  have  said  he  abandoned, 
when  David  feebly  spoke. 

Depressed  by  the  whole  affair  immeasurably,  Adam 
was  still  too  exalted  by  love's  great  flight  to  dwell  for 
long  upon  old  Donner's  mania.  His  worries  for  Garde, 
in  her  tribulations,  however,  were  strewn  like  sad 
flowers  of  thought  through  his  reverie.  He  longed  to 
help  her,  yet  he  knew  how  utterly  impossible  such  a 
thing  would  be. 

Walking  aimlessly,  he  came  before  long  to  the  harbor 
shore.  The  melted  emerald  and  sapphire,  which  the 


Love's  Garden.  239 

sea  was  rolling  against  the  rocks,  with  sparkles  of  cap 
tured  sunlight  glinting  endlessly  through  and  upon 
the  lazy  billows,  gave  him  the  greatest  possible  sense 
of  delight.  He  sat  down  on  a  rock  where  the  green 
velvet  moss  had  dried  like  fur,  after  a  wetting. 

No  king  on  a  throne  ever  detected  more  evidences 
of  the  world's  gladness  than  did  the  rover,  thinking 
away  the  hours  of  that  balmy  afternoon.  He  forgot 
all  about  dinner,  when  the  sun  went  down,  and  he  had 
nearly  forgotten  old  man  Donner,  when  at  length  he 
started  to  his  feet,  in  the  twilight,  in  love  with  the 
evening  for  having  come  so  soon,  although  half  an 
hour  before  he  had  been  thinking  the  day  would  never 
end. 

He  was  soon  at  the  gate  in  front  of  Donner's  house, 
listening,  watching  the  darkened  windows,  holding  his 
breath  as  every  fragrant  zephyr  trailed  its  perfumes  by, 
thinking  Garde  was  coming,  preceded  by  the  redolence 
attendant  on  her  loveliness. 

But  he  had  many  such  breathless  moments  of  sus 
pense,  in  vain.  Evening  glided  into  the  arms  of  night. 
The  hours  winged  by,  on  raven  wings,  and  still  no 
Garde  appeared.  Adam  paced  up  and  down,  restor 
ing,  time  after  time,  the  picture  of  Garde  as  he  had 
seen  her,  during  those  precious  few  moments  before 
the  interruption. 

He  was  not  conscious  of  the  flight  of  time.  He  was 
•well  content  to  be  near  where  his  lady  was  and  to  wait 
there,  knowing  that  she  knew  he  was  waiting,  think 
ing  of  her,  as  he  knew  she  was  thinking  of  him.  He 
clasped  his  hands  back  of  his  head  ;  then  he  folded  his 
arms,  the  better  to  press  on  his  heart ;  then  he  stopped 


240  Hearts  of  Grace 

and  tossed  kisses  to  the  silent  house,  after  which  he 
again  walked  back  and  forth,  pausing  to  listen,  and 
then  going  on  as  before. 

At  length,  near  midnight,  he  stood  looking  up  at 
the  stars,  completely  absorbed  in  a  dream  he  was 
fashioning  to  suit  himself. 

There  was  a  faint  flutter. 

"  Adam— oh,  are  you  there  ?  "  said  a  sweet  voice, 
subdued  and  a  bit  tremulous.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you 
didn't  go  away,  discouraged." 

Adam  had  turned  about  instantly,  a  glad  sound  upon 
his  lips.  In  one  stride  he  reached  the  gate  and  caught 
her  two  trembling  hands  where  they  rested  on  the 
pickets. 

"Dearest!"  he  murmured  to  her  joyously.  "At 
last  1 " 

"  I  can  only  stop  a  minute,  Adam,"  said  Garde,  who 
was  quaking  a  little,  lest  her  grandfather  wake  and 
come  again  into  the  garden.  "  He  has  been  very  rest 
less,  and  he  wouldn't  go  to  sleep,  and  he  wakes  up  so 
easily  !  But  I  couldn't  let  you  go  away  like  that.  And 
I  have  tried  to  come  out  five  times,  but  he  woke  up 
every  time,  and  now  I  must  say  good  night,  Adam, 
and  run  right  back  at  once." 

"  Oh,  but  Hove  you  so,"  said  Adam,  illogically.  "  If 
you  must  go,  though,  you  must.  I  know  I  can  never 
tell  you  how  much  I  love  you,  dearest." 

"  Oh,  Adam  !  "  she  said,  expressing  more  than  he 
did,  poor  fellow,  in  all  his  protestations.  "  Oh,  dear ! 
I  really  must  go,  Adam.  But  in  about  a  week  I  am 
sure  he  will  be  much  better." 

"  Shan't  I  see  you  for  a  week  ?  "  said  he. 


Love's  Garden.  241 

"  It  might  be  better  not,"  she  answered/ 'if  we  could 
wait." 

"  I  could  go  down  to  see  my  poor  old  beef -eaters,  I 
suppose,"  Adam  mused. 

In  relating  his  travels,  on  the  road,  he  had  told  Garde 
of  the  beef -eaters,  so  that  now,  although  she  said  noth 
ing  to  betray  herself,  she  understood  what  he  meant. 

"  And  then  you'll  come  back,  as  soon  as  you  can,  in 
a  few  days,  or  a  week  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Oh,  dear— it  is 
too  bad.  Bat,  Adam,  I  must  not  remain  another  single 
minute.  I  must  say  good  night,  dear,  and  run." 

Adam  had  remained  on  his  own  side  of  the  gate, 
retaining  her  hands,  which  he  had  kissed  repeatedly, 
till  they  fairly  burned  with  their  tingling.  He  now 
reached  over  the  gate  and  took  her  sweet  face  between 
his  two  big  palms. 

"  Goodnight,  dearest  little  love,"  he  said,  and  slowly 
leaning  forward,  he  kissed  her,  once — then  he  kissed  her 
three  times  more. 

She  started  slowly  away,  looking  back  at  him 
lovingly. 

"  Oh,  Garde  !"  he  whispered. 

She  stopped  and  came  fluttering  back  to  meet  him. 
He  had  let  himself  in  at  the  gate  with  one  quick  move 
ment.  He  took  her  home  to  his  arms  and  held  her 
in  breathless  joy  against  his  throbbing  heart.  With 
love  in  her  eyes  her  face  was  turned  upward  to  his 
own. 

"  My  Adam  ! "  she  said,  with  all  the  fervor  of  her 
nature. 

"  My  love  !    My  darling  !  "  he  responded. 

He  kissed  her  again.  It  was  a  warm,  sweet  kiss  that 
16 


242  Hearts  of  Grace 

brought  their  very  souls  to  their  lips.  Then  he  dropped 
down  on  his  knee  and  kissed  her  hands  and  pressed 
their  fragrant  palms  against  his  face. 

"  My  love  ! "  he  said.     "  My  own  love  !  " 
She  nestled  in  his  arms  yet  once  again.      She  gave 
him  the  one  more  kiss  that  burned  on  her  lips  to  be 
taken,  and  then  she  fled  swiftly  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  ENEMY  IN  POWER. 

ADAM  found  his  faithful  beef-eaters  on  the  verge  of 
the  grave.  The  miserable  old  rogues  had  no  better 
sense  than  to  be  pining  to  death  like  two  masterless  dogs. 
They  had  been  ill  enough,  in  all  conscience,  and  even 
somewhat  mentally  disordered,  but  there  had  been  no 
sufficient  grounds  for  the  pair  to  believe  themselves 
abandoned  by  their  "  Sachem/'  and  there  had  been  ab 
solutely  no  excuse  for  them  to  refuse  to  eat. 

However,  the  rascals  nearly  "  wagged  "  themselves  to 
pieces  when  Rust  was  finally  beside  them,  and  the  way 
they  laughed  was  most  suggestively  like  the  glad  whim 
pering  of  two  dumbly  loving  animals  expressing  their 
joy.  Adam  would  have  scolded  the  two  for  having 
brought  themselves  to  such  a  condition  of  weakness 
and  bones,  only  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  do  this 
justice  to  the  case. 

There  was,  however,  no  such  thing  as  getting  the  old 
fellows  back  on  their  pins  in  a  week,  nor  yet  in  two, 
nor  three.  They  even  hesitated,  after  he  had  come, 
between  running  backward  toward  their  long  sleep  and 
coming  along  with  him  to  vales  of  renewed  health. 
They  were  like  affectionate  creatures  divided  between 
two  masters.  The  grim  visitor  had  come  so  near  to  win- 

243 


244  Hearts  of  Grace 

ning  them  both,  with  his  beckoning,  that  they  appeared 
to  think  it  their  duty  to  die. 

Adam,  however,  was  a  persuasive  force.  He  had  won 
them  away  from  themselves  before  ;  he  won  them  again 
on  this  occasion.  Captain  Kidd,  a  braw  Scotsman, 
who  ordinarily  dropped  his  native  dialect,  having  little 
affection  for  his  country,  his  father  having  suffered  tor 
tures  for  becoming  a  non-conformist  clergyman,  felt  he 
must  needs  relapse  into  something  barbaric  to  express 
himself  on  the  beef-eaters. 

"  Of  all  the  twas  that  ere  twad,"  said  he,  "  you're 
muckle  the  strangest  twa." 

By  this  he  meant  to  convey  that  of  all  the  couples 
that  ever  mated,  the  two  old  rascals  were  the  oddest 
pair. 

The  convalescence  being  a  slow  affair,  Adam  was 
obliged  to  give  up  all  thought  of  returning  immediately 
to  Boston.  Yet  so  hopeful  was  he  that  every  day 
would  perform  some  miracle  of  restoring  the  strength 
to  the  muscles  and  the  meat  to  the  bones  of  his  ret 
inue,  that  it  was  not  until  he  had  been  away  from  Garde 
for  more  than  three  weeks  that  he  finally  wrote  to  tell 
her  of  why  he  had  failed  to  return.  But  the  letter,  for 
some  unknown  reason,  was  never  delivered. 

At  length,  however,  what  with  the  fulness  of  summer 
come  upon  them  and  the  hope  which  Adam  had 
inspired  in  their  breasts,  the  beef-eaters  became  padded 
out  to  the  fulness  of  their  old-time  grandeur,  and  once 
more  swaggered  about  and  bragged  of  their  prowess. 

Adam's  money  had,  by  this  time,  dwindled  down  to 
a  sum  which  was  not  at  all  difficult  to  transport  from 
place  to  place,  nor  even  from  pocket  to  pocket.  Hav- 


The  Enemy  in  Power.  245 

ing  no  heart  to  put  the  retinue  on  shipboard,  to  con 
vey  them  to  Massachusetts,  he  sacrificed  nearly  his 
last  bit  of  coin  to  secure  them  passage,  by  coach  and 
wagon,  from  Manhattan  to  Boston.  This  left  him 
either  one  of  two  expedients  for  himself.  He  could 
walk,  or  he  could  make  shift  to  secure  a  passage  by 
vessel,  giving  work  as  payment  for  the  favor.  He 
argued  that  once  in  Boston  he  would  accept  the  posi 
tion  offered  by  Goodwife  Phipps  at  the  ship-yard,  and 
hither  also  would  he  take  his  followers,  so  that  by  hon 
est  toil  they  might  all  be  happy  and  continue  their  time- 
sealed  companionship,  and  desert  the  rolling-stone  busi 
ness  as  an  occupation. 

It  was  not  without  misgivings  that  the  beef-eaters 
accepted  this  arrangement.  But  being  obedient  things 
that  would  willingly  have  gone  into  fire,  or  the  sea  itself, 
at  Adam's  command  or  wish,  they  meekly  bade  him 
a  temporary  adieu  and  saw  him  depart  before  them,  a 
ship  being  several  days  ahead  of  the  coach  in  point  of 
time  for  departing. 

In  the  meantime,  history  had  been  making  fast  in 
Boston.  The  crafty  Randolph,  whose  coup  had  long 
been  prepared,  had  returned  from  New  Amsterdam, 
bearing  a  commission  from  the  King  of  England 
declaring  the  charter  null  and  void  and  delegating  upon 
him  power  to  form  a  new  provisional  government  for 
the  colony  of  Massachusetts.  Great  tracts  of  territory, 
comprising  New  Hampshire,  Maine  and  other  areas, 
were  lopped  off  from  the  province  at  one  fell  blow. 
Randolph  created  Joseph  Dudley  provisional  governor, 
Dudley  having  long  been  seeking  his  favor,  against  this 
final  moment  of  changes.  The  courts  fell  into  the 


246  Hearts  of  Grace 

hands  of  the  newly-elected  power.  The  soldiers,  con 
stabulary,  everything  assumed  an  ultra-English  tone 
and  arrogance.  The  people  clenched  their  fists  and 
wrought  their  passions  up  to  a  point  where  rebellions  are 
lighted  in  a  night. 

Yet  Boston  was  a  loyal  town,  obedient  to  its  liege 
lord  and  nearly  as  eager  to  serve  him  and  to  do  him 
homage  as  it  was  to  preserve  its  liberties  and  the  inde 
pendence,  which  gradual  development  had  created  and 
long  usage  had  confirmed  as  inalienable,  in  the  belief 
of  all  the  patriotic  citizens.  Stoughton  and  Bradstreet, 
beholding  the  revolutionary  tendency,  which  would 
have  plunged  the  colony  most  unwisely  into  a  sea  of 
trouble,  submitted  to  the  new  order  of  things,  which 
for  long  they  had  seen  coming,  inevitably,  out  of  the 
malignant  spirit  in  which  the  Stuart  dynasty  had 
always  desired  to  govern  these  non-conformist  hard 
heads. 

There  were  many  creatures  in  Boston  swift  to  join 
the  Tory  party,  under  Randolph,  for  the  plums  of 
official  recognition.  Thus  this  party  rapidly  assumed 
considerable  dimensions,  and  therefore  power,  to  add  to 
that  of  which  the  King  himself  was  the  fountain-head. 

Boston  at  that  time  was  a  prosperous  town  of  some 
thing  more  than  six  thousand  souls.  It  was  substan 
tially  built,  if  crookedly,  for  the  most  part  of  wood.  Yet 
there  was  a  fair  sprinkling  of  brick  houses  along  its 
cow-path  streets,  and  a  few  were  of  stone,  which,  in 
several  instances,  had  been  brought  to  this  undeveloped 
land  from  England.  The  town  was  distinctly  English, 
both  as  to  customs  and  thoughts,  but  the  seeds  which 
hardihood  had  sown,  were  to  grow  the  pillars  of  Ameri- 


The  Enemy  in  Power.  247 

canism — synonymous  with  a  spirit  of  Democracy  suffi 
cient  to  inspire  the  world  ! 

Naturally  Isaiah  Pinchhecker  became  a  master-jackal 
under  the  new  regime.  Psalms  Higgler,  the  lesser 
light  of  lick-spittling,  became,  by  the  same  token,  a 
lesser  carnivora,  but  no  less  hungry  to  be  feeding  on 
the  foe-masters  of  the  recent  past.  And  Pinchbecker, 
having  found  Adam  in  the  town,  was  alert  to  find  him 
again. 

Yet  not  even  Pinchbecker,  with  his  knife-edge  mind, 
devoted  to  evolving  schemes  of  vengeance,  could  have 
comprehended  the  tigerish  joy  with  which  Eandolph 
remembered  Adam  Rust,  from  that  morning  in  the 
Crow  and  Arrow,  and  with  which  he  now  put  two  and 
two  together,  to  arrive  at  Adam's  relationship  with 
Garde  Merrill. 

Eandolph  was  a  subtle  schemer,  never  fathomed  by 
the  Puritans,  against  whom  he  displayed  such  an  im 
placable  hatred.  He  was  far  too  wise  ever  to  appear  as 
the  point,  when  a  thrust  of  revenge  was  to  be  delivered. 
He  never  for  a  moment  relaxed  his  obsequious  demeanor, 
nor  his  air  of  injured  guiltlessness.  Like  all  men  of 
power,  he  had  much  material,  self-offered,  from  which 
to  choose  his  henchmen.  He  had  chosen  Pinchbecker 
wisely,  for  a  hypocrite,  a  fawner,  and  an  arrant  knave 
who  could  work  endless  harm,  in  an  underhanded 
fashion.  But  for  his  more  aggressive  employment  he 
attached  to  his  service  a  great,  burly  brute,  with  a  face 
like  a  mastiff's,  an  intelligence  like  a  sloth's,  and  a 
courage  like  that  of  a  badger.  This  masterpiece  of 
human  animalism  responded  to  the  name  of  te  Gallows," 
for  once  a  man  had  been  hanged  on  his  back,  as  in  early 


248  Hearts  of  Grace 

English-Irish  usage,  and  of  this  he  was  matchlessly 
proud. 

Adam  arrived  in  the  midst  of  that  first  elation 
of.  Randolph  and  his  following,  the  like  of  which 
is  frequently  the  cause  of  reaction  so  violent  as  to  quite 
reverse  the  fates  themselves.  But  although  the  Puri 
tans  hated  Dudley,  almost  more  than  Randolph,  for 
traitorously  joining  the  party  of  destruction,  their 
growlings  checked  nothing  of  the  all-importance  which 
the  creatures  in  power  felt  and  made  their  fellow-beings 
feel.  A  spirit  of  sullen  brooding  settled  on  the  people. 

Unaware  that  Rust  had  been  away  from  Boston, 
since  he  had  seen  him  that  day  in  Donner's  garden 
with  Mistress  Merrill,  Pinchbecker  had  been  seeking 
for  him  diligently,  ever  since  Randolph's  return.  But 
believing  that  his  quarry  would  be  found  eventually  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  Crow  and  Arrow,  his  field  of  in 
vestigations  was  narrow. 

It  had  naturally  happened,  however,  that  Adam  had 
quite  forgotten  to  tell  the  beef -eaters  of  his  change  of 
abode  in  Boston.  They  would  therefore  proceed  to 
the  old  tavern  immediately  upon  their  arrival.  He 
thought  of  this  before  he  landed.  Having  come  ashore 
at  twilight,  he  made  it  his  duty  to  stroll  to  the  Crow 
and  Arrow,  for  the  purpose  of  leaving  a  message  for 
Pike  and  Halberd,  when  at  last  they  should  come  to 
the  town. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  FIGHT   AT  THE  TAVERN*. 

IT  was  a  quiet  time  of  the  day,  in  a  quiet  part  of  the 
city.  Adam  discerned  one  or  two  individuals  only  and 
was  not  concerned  with  noting  that  he  was  suddenly 
preceded  by  a  noiseless  person,  who  hastened  ahead  of 
him  to  the  tavern.  The  rover  was  much  more  occupied 
in  observing  the  beauties  of  a  horse  that  stood  hitched 
to  a  post  across  the  way  from  the  public  house. 

The  animal,  a  fine  bay,  imported  from  England,  was 
the  property  of  one  of  Randolph's  followers,  a  drinking 
young  dandy  with  questionable  ambitions  and  many 
extravagant  tastes.  Charmed  by  the  horse's  impatience, 
as  evinced  by  his  pawing  at  the  ground,  Adam  was 
tempted  to  get  astride  his  back  for  a  gallop. 

However,  after  standing  for  a  moment  on  the  side 
walk,  while  his  gaze  caressed  the  champing  animal,  he 
turned  and  passed  on  into  the  tavern.  Desiring  to  con 
clude  his  business  as  speedily  as  possible,  he  was  some 
what  annoyed  to  find  the  way  to  the  bar,  in  front  of 
the  landlord,  completely  blocked  by  a  great  hulk  of  a 
creature,  with  a  sword  loosely  girt  about  his  loins,  and 
two  or  three  others,  of  whom  the  rover  took  less  notice. 

"  By  your  leave,"  he  said,  politely,  not  yet  suspicious 
of  the  odd  silence  which  had  fallen  on  the  company  at 

his  entrance,  "  I  would  like  to  get  to  the " 

249 


250  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  What  !  "  roared  the  big  lout,  whom  he  had  slightly 
touched  upon  the  arm.  "  Who  the  devil  are  you  ? 
Keep  your  hands  off  of  me,  you  fool !  " 

The  person  on  whom  Adam  looked  was  Gallows, 
whose  face,  florid  almost  to  being  purple,  was  so 
savagely  contorted  as  to  comprise  an  insult  in  itself. 

"  My  cross-eyed  friend,"  retorted  Adam,  whose  temper 
had  risen  without  delay,  "  have  done  looking  at  your 
self,  if  you  would  see  no  fool.  If  you  will  tell  me  which 
hand  I  put  on  you,  I'll  cut  it  off,  else  1  may  live  to  see 
it  rot !  " 

The  company  had  turned  about  at  once.  Pinch- 
becker  was  there,  with  his  satellite,  Psalms  Higgler,  the 
little  white-eyed  scamp  that  Adam  had  once  dropped 
from  the  near-by  window.  The  foppish  young  English 
man,  who  owned  the  horse  outside,  was  likewise  in  the 
party.  They  all  saw  the  burly  Gallows  turn  to  them 
hopelessly,  befuddled  by  Adam's  answer. 

"  You  be  a  fool  ! "  he  roared  again,  his  eyes  bulging 
out  of  their  sockets  in  his  wrath,  "  and  I  be  the  fool- 
killer  ! " 

The  company  guffawed  at  this,  the  monster's  solitary 
sally  of  wit. 

"  You  are  a  liar  by  the  fact  that  you  live, "said Rust. 
"  Bah,  you  disgust  me  with  the  thought  of  having  the 
duties,  which  you  have  so  patently  and  outrageously 
neglected,  thrust  upon  me.  Begone.  There's  no  fire 
to  roast  a  barbecue,  if  I  should  be  minded  to  spit 
you!" 

The  creature  looked  again  at  his  fellows,  who  had 
obviously  egged  him  on. 

"  He  insults  you  right  prettily,  good  Gallows,"  said 


A  Fight  at  the  Tavern.  251 

the  dandy,  who  was  himself  a  rascal  banished  from  his 
own  country.  "  But  he  dare  not  fight  you,  we  can  see 
it  plainly." 

"  With  you  thrown  in,  I  dare  say  there  might  be  a 
moment's  sport  in  a  most  unsavory  blood-letting/'  said 
Rust,  whose  hand  went  to  his  sword-hilt  calmly.  "  I 
should  want  some  fresh  air  if  I  stuck  either  one  of  you 
carrion-fed  buzzards. " 

Gallows  knew  by  this  that  it  was  time  to  draw  his 
blade.  "You  be  a  fool  and  I  be  the  fool-killer,"  he 
roared  as  before,  this  being  his  best  hold  on  language 
to  suit  the  occasion.  Only  now  he  came  for  Adam  like 
a  butcher. 

"  Outside — go  outside,  gentlemen  ! "  cried  the  land 
lord  excitedly. 

"  Go  outside  !  "  said  the  voice  of  some  one  who  was 
not  visible.  It  was  Randolph,  concealed  in  the  ad 
joining  room  and  watching  the  proceedings  through  a 
narrow  crack,  where  he  had  opened  the  door. 

"  Go  on  out,  and  I'll  fight  you  ! "  bellowed  Gallows. 

"After  you,"  said  Rust,  whose  blade  was  out  and 
being  swiftly  passed  under  his  exacting  eye.  "  Go  out 
first.  You  will  need  one  more  breath  than  I." 

The  brute  obeyed,  as  if  he  had  to  do  so  and  knew  it, 
receiving  Adam's  order  like  the  clod  he  was. 

The  other  creatures  made  such  a  scrambling  to  see 
the  show,  and  otherwise  evinced  such  an  abnormal  in 
terest  in  the  coming  fight,  that  Adam  had  no  trouble  in 
divining  that  the  whole  affair  had  been  prearranged, 
and  that  if  he  did  not  get  killed,  he  would  be  arrested, 
should  he  slay  his  opponent.  He  concluded  he  was 
something  of  a  match  for  the  whole  outfit. 


252  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Have  at  you,  mountain  of  foul  meat,"  he  said,  as 
he  tossed  down  his  hat.  "What  a  mess  you  will  make, 
done  in  slices  !  " 

The  young  dandy  laughed,  despite  himself,  from  his 
place  by  the  door. 

Gallows  needed  no  further  exasperations.  He  came 
marching  up  to  Rust  and  made  a  hack  at  him,  mighty 
enough  and  vicious  enough  to  break  down  the  stoutest 
guard  and  cleave  through  a  man's  whole  body  as 
well. 

Rust  had  expected  no  less  than  such  a  stroke.  He 
spared  his  steel  the  task  of  parrying  the  Gallows'  slash. 
Nimbly  leaping  aside,  he  made  a  motion  that  had  some 
thing  debonair  in  its  execution,  and  cut  a  ghastly  big 
flap,  like  a  steak,  from  the  monster's  cheek. 

The  fellow  let  out  an  awful  bellow  and  ran  at  his 
opponent,  striking  at  him  like  a  mad  Hercules. 

"  Spare  yourself,  fool-killer/'  said  Adam.  He  dared 
to  bow,  as  he  dodged  a  mighty  onslaught,  in  which 
Gallows  used  his  sword  like  a  hatchet,  and  then  he 
flicked  the  giant's  ear  away,  bodily,  taking  something 
also  of  his  jowl,  for  good  measure. 

The  great  hulk  stamped  about  there  like  an  ox,  the 
blood  hastening  down  from  his  face  and  being  flung  in 
spatters  about  him.  Adam  next  cut  him  deeply  in  the 
muscle  of  his  great  left  arm. 

"I  warm  to  my  work,"  he  said,  as  he  darted  ac 
tively  away  and  back.  "  Gentlemen,  is  your  choice  for 
a  wing  or  a  leg  of  the  ill-smelling  bird  ?  " 

The  dandy,  fresh  from  England,  guffawed  and  cried 
"  Bravo  !  "  He  had  been  born  a  gentleman,  in  spite  of 
himself. 


A  Fight  at  the  Tavern.  253 

The  fight  was  a  travesty  on  equality.  The  monster 
was  absolutely  helpless.  He  was  simply  a  vast  machine 
for  butchery,  but  he  must  needs  first  catch  his  victim 
before  he  could  perform  his  offices.  He  was  a  terrible 
sight,  with  his  great  sword  raised  on  high,  or  ripping 
downward  through  the  air,  as  he  ran,  half  blinded  by 
his  own  gore,  to  catch  the  rover,  who  played  with  him, 
slicing  him  handily,  determined  not  to  kill  the  beast 
and  so  to  incur  a  penalty  for  murder. 

The  creatures  inside  the  tavern,  appalled  by  the  exhi 
bition  they  had  brought  about,  saw  that  their  monster 
was  soon  to  be  a  staggering  tower  of  blood  and  wounds. 

"  Don't  let  him  get  away  !  Kill  him  !  Kill  him  ! " 
said  the  voice  of  Randolph,  from  behind  the  others. 

Adam  heard  him.  He  saw  Pinchbecker  shrink  back 
at  once.  Psalms  Higgler,  however,  glad  of  an  excuse 
and  ready  to  take  advantage  of  a  man  already  suffi 
ciently  beset,  came  scrambling  out.  The  foppish  gentle 
man  was  too  much  of  a  sportsman  to  take  a  hand 
against  such  a  single  swordsman  as  he  found  in  Rust. 

Aware  that  he  was  to  have  no  chance,  and  convinced 
abruptly  that  these  wretches  had  plotted  to  kill  him, 
Adam  deftly  avoided  Gallows,  as  the  dreadful  brute 
came  again  upon  him,  and  slashing  the  fellow's  leg 
behind  the  knee,  ham-strung  him  instantly. 

Roaring  like  a  wounded  bull,  the  creature  dropped 
down  on  his  side,  and  then  got  upon  his  hands  and 
knees  and  commenced  to  crawl,  wiping  out  his  eyes 
with  his  reddened  hands. 

Unable  to  restrain  his  rage,  and  fearing  his  intended 
victim  would  yet  avoid  him,  Higgler  being  already  at 
bay  and  disarmed,  Randolph  came  abruptly  out  from 


254  Hearts  of  Grace 

the  tavern  himself,  pistol  in  hand,  to  perform  the  task 
which  otherwise  was  doomed  to  failure. 

"  Call  the  guard  !  "  he  cried.     < '  Call  the  guard  ! " 

Adam  had  been  waiting  for  some  such  treachery.  He 
cut  at  the  pistol  the  second  it  rose,  knocking  it  end 
ways  and  slicing  Randolph's  arm,  superficially,  from 
near  the  wrist  to  the  elbow.  He  waited  then  for  noth 
ing  more. 

Across  the  road,  before  any  one  guessed  his  intention, 
he  was  up  on  the  back  of  the  horse,  before  the  yelled 
protest  of  the  English  gentleman  came  to  his  ears. 

"Gentlemen  all,"  he  called  to  the  group,  "good 
evening. " 

Clapping  his  heels  to  the  ribs  of  the  restive  animal, 
he  rode  madly  away,  just  as  Isaiah  Pinchbecker,  with 
half  a  dozen  constables  came  running  frantically  upon 
the  scene. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  EEFUGEE. 

IRRESPONSIBLY  joyous,  thus  to  be  in  a  saddle,  on  a 
spirited  horse,  Rust  was  soon  dashing  across  the  com 
mon  and  turning  about  like  a  centaur,  for  ease  and 
grace,  glanced  back  to  see  who  might  be  joining  in  the 
race.  His  naked  sword  was  still  in  his  hand.  It  was 
red  from  point  to  hilt.  He  wiped  it  on  the  horse, 
thereby  causing  the  animal  to  plunge  and  to  run  in  a 
frenzy  of  nervousness. 

Adam  chortled.  The  affair  from  beginning  to  end, 
from  his  present  standpoint,  appealed  to  his  sense  of 
humor.  The  consequences  of  his  adventure  would  be 
presented  to  his  mind  soon  enough.  He  merely  knew 
now  that  he  had  won  out  of  a  tight  corner,  as  a  gentle 
man  should,  that  a  glorious  animal  was  bounding  be 
neath  him  and,  that  sweet  night  air  came  rushing  upon 
him  as  if  it  opened  its  arms  to  receive  him. 

Aware  that  he  would  soon  be  pursued,  and  mentally 
acknowledging  that  the  horse  was  not  his  own,  he  rode 
to  a  farm-house  about  a  mile  or  so  out  from  the  town, 
and  there  dismounted.  Reluctantly  he  said  farewell  to 
the  charger,  bidding  the  farmer  have  the  animal  re 
turned  to  Boston  in  the  morning,  with  his  thanks  and 
compliments.  For  the  service  he  presented  the  won 
dering  man  with  a  piece  of  silver,  the  last  he  had  of  the 


256  Hearts  of  Grace 

small  amount  left  him  after  paying  the  fares  of  the 
beef -eaters  up  to  Massachusetts. 

Coolly  inviting  himself  to  have  a  hite  of  the  farmer's 
scanty  supper,  he  bade  the  man  good  night,  about  five 
minutes  before  the  mounted  constables  came  riding 
hotly  to  the  place.  He  even  heard  them,  when  they 
left  the  farm  and  began  to  scour  the  woods  to  jump 
him  up.  At  this  he  smiled  with  rare  good  humor,  con 
fident  of  the  powers  of  superior  wood-craft  to  baffle 
anybody  or  anything  in  all  Massachusetts,  save  alone 
an  Indian. 

Understanding  all  the  delighted  chucklings  of  the 
forest  as  he  did,  he  felt  at  once  secure  among  the  trees, 
as  one  of  the  family.  Moreover  he  loved  to  be  wander 
ing  in  the  woods  at  night.  He  continued  to  walk,  on 
and  on,  beginning  to  wonder  at  last  what  he  really  in 
tended  to  do.  Then,  at  the  thought  of  Garde,  who 
might  be  expecting  to  see  him,  and  whom  he  very  much 
desired  again  to  see,  he  waxed  somewhat  impatient  with 
this  enforced  flight  from  the  town  where  she  was. 

The  more  he  thought  upon  it,  then,  the  more  im 
possible  it  seemed  for  him  to  return.  Against  Ran 
dolph,  enthroned  in  power,  and  against  all  his  wretched 
disciples,  he  could  not  expect  to  breathe  a  word  which 
would  avail  to  get  him  justice.  It  would  be  sheer 
madness  to  make  the  attempt.  The  creatures  would 
charge  him  with  all  the  crimes  on  the  calendar,  and, 
swearing  all  to  one  statement,  would  convict  him  of 
anything  they  chose.  The  whole  affair  had  been 
planned  to  beat  him,  or  worse,  and  to  a  galling  extent 
it  had  quite  succeeded.  He  was  balked,  completely 
and  absolutely,  in  whatsoever  direction  his  meditations 


A  Refugee.  257 

turned.  To  try  to  see  Garde  would  be  fairly  suicidal. 
Not  to  see  her,  especially  after  his  promises,  would  be, 
to  a  man  so  much  in  love  as  he,  a  living  death. 

And  again,  the  beef-eaters.  What  was  to  become  of 
his  faithful  retinue  ?  They  would  arrive  there,  only 
to  find  that  he  had  again  deserted  them,  leaving  them 
wholly  at  the  mercy  of  Randolph  and  his  jackals.  These 
demons  would  not  be  slow  at  recognizing  who  and 
what  Pike  and  Halberd  were,  from  episodes  of  the  past. 
The  two  would  go  straight  into  the  lion's  mouth,  at 
the  Crow  and  Arrow. 

He  thought  at  first  of  going  to  Plymouth.  He  could 
write  to  Garde  from  there,  he  reflected,  and  also  to 
Halberd  and  Pike.  But  he  soon  concluded  that  this 
would  be  to  walk  merely  into  the  other  end  of  the 
enemy's  trap,  for  no  good  or  comforting  purpose. 
New  York  presented  itself  as  a  jurisdiction  where  Ran 
dolph's  arm  would  have  no  power  to  do  him  harm. 
But  New  York  was  a  long  way  off.  If  he  went  there, 
not  only  would  he  miss  seeing  Garde,  but  he  could  not 
warn  his  retinue  in  time  to  keep  them  out  of  Randolph's 
clutches. 

The  business  was  maddening.  He  began  to  think, 
as  a  consequence  of  dwelling  on  the  hopelessness  of  his 
own  situation,  that  Randolph  would  be  aiming  next  at 
Garde  herself,  in  wreaking  his  dastardly  vengeance  for 
his  past  defeats.  This  was  intolerable.  He  halted, 
there  in  the  dark  woods,  swaying  between  the  good 
sense  of  hiding  and  the  nonsense  of  going  straight  back 
to  the  town,  to  carry  Garde  away  from  the  harpies, 
bodily. 

A  picture  of  old  David  Donner,  stricken,  helpless,  a 


258  Hearts  of  Grace 

child,  arose  in  his  mind,  to  confront  him  and  to  mock 
his  Quixotic  scheme.  He  could  not  carry  both  Garde 
and  her  grandfather  away  to  New  York,  nor  even  to 
the  woods.  He  was  penniless.  This  was  not  the  only 
obstacle,  even  supposing  Donner  would  consent  so  to 
flee,  which  was  not  at  all  likely. 

It  was  also  certain  that  Garde  would  not  permit  him 
to  carry  her  off  and  leave  the  old  man  behind.  But  at 
least,  he  finally  thought,  he  could  go  back  to  the  town 
and  be  near,  to  protect  her,  if  occasion  should  require 
a  sword  and  a  ready  wit.  Could  he  but  manage  to  do 
this — to  go  there  secretly  and  remain  there  unknown — 
he  could  gather  his  beef-eaters  about  him  and  together 
they  could  and  would  combat  an  army  ! 

But  how  to  go  back  and  be  undetected,  that  was  the 
question.  In  the  first  place  he  despised  the  idea  of 
doing  anything  that  did  not  smack  of  absolute  bold 
ness  and  fearlessness.  Yet  Boston  was  a  seething 
whirlpool  of  Randolph's  power,  at  this  time.  Simply 
to  be  caught  like  a  rat  and  killed  like  a  pest  would  add 
nothing  of  glory  to  his  name,  nor  could  it  materially 
add  to  Garde's  happiness  and  safety. 

Driven  into  a  corner  of  his  brain,  as  it  were,  by  all 
these  moves  and  counter-moves  on  the  chess-board  of 
the  situation,  he  presently  conceived  a  plan  which 
made  him  hug  himself  in  sheer  delight. 

He  would  simply  disguise  himself  as  an  Indian  and 
go  to  town  to  make  a  treaty  with  Randolph,  the  Big- 
man-afraid-to-be-chief. 

This  so  tickled  his  fancy  that,  had  an  Indian  settle 
ment  been  near  at  hand,  he  would  have  been  inside  his 
buckskins  and  war-paint  and  back  to  Boston  ahead  of 


A  Refugee.  259 

the  constables  themselves.  In  such  a  guise,  he  told 
himself,  he  could  manage  to  see  his  sweetheart,  he 
could  get  his  beef-eaters  clear  of  danger,  baffle  his  foes, 
and  arrange  to  carry  both  Garde  and  her  grandfather 
away  to  safety. 

But  the  first  consideration  was,  where  should  he  find 
an  Indian  ?  He  was  aware  that  the  Red  men  had  been 
pushed  backward  and  westward  miles  from  the  towns 
of  the  whites.  It  was  years  since  he  had  roamed 
through  the  forests  and  mountains — years  since  he  had 
known  where  his  old-time,  red  brothers  built  their 
lodges.  There  could  be  but  one  means  of  finding  a 
camp,  namely  :  to  walk  onward,  to  penetrate  fairly  to 
the  edge  of  the  wilderness  beyond. 

Nothing  daunted  by  the  thought  of  distance,  he 
struck  out  for  the  west.  Like  the  Indians  themselves, 
he  could  smell  the  points  of  the  sunrise  and  sunset, 
unerringly.  With  boyish  joy  in  his  thoughts,  and  in 
the  dreams  he  fashioned  of  the  hair-breadth  events 
that  would  happen  when  he  arrived  in  the  town  in  his 
toggery,  he  plodded  along  all  night,  happy  once  more 
and  contented. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A   FOSTER    PARENT. 

ADAM  covered  many  a  mile  before  the  morning. 
Mindless  of  his  hunger,  sparred  by  the  thought  that 
he  must  soon  be  back  in  Boston,  he  felt  that  the  fur 
ther  he  went  the  more  he  must  hasten.  Thus  he 
marched  straight  on  till  noon. 

He  rested  briefly  at  this  time,  filled  his  craving 
stomach  with  water,  and  again  made  a  start.  In  fifteen 
minutes  he  came  upon  a  clearing,  at  the  edge  of  a  little 
valley  where  up-jutting  rocks  were  as  plentiful  as 
houses  in  a  city.  Pausing  for  a  moment,  to  ascertain 
the  nature  of  the  place,  and  to  prepare  himself  against 
possible  surprise,  he  presently  approached  a  small  log 
hut,  of  more  than  usually  rude  construction. 

There  appeared  to  be  no  signs  whatsoever  of  life 
about  the  place.  No  smoke  ascended  from  the 
chimney  ;  there  was  no  animal  in  sight,  not  even  so 
much  as  a  dog. 

Adam  glanced  hurriedly  about  the  acre  or  so  of  land, 
beholding  evidences  of  recent  work.  A  tree  had  been 
felled,  not  far  away,  within  the  week.  In  a  neat  little 
patch  of  tilled  soil,  green  corn  stood  two  feet  high  and 
growing  promisingly. 

Going  to  the  cabin-door  he  knocked  first  and  gave  it 
a  push  afterward,  for  it  was  not  latched,  although  it 
260 


A  Foster  Parent.  261 

was  nearly  closed.  There  being  no  response  from  the 
inside,  he  entered.  The  light  entered  with  him.  It 
revealed  a  strange  and  dreadful  scene. 

On  the  floor  lay  a  man,  dressed,  half  raised  on  his 
elbow,  looking  up  at  the  visitor  with  staring  eyes,  while 
he  moved  his  lips  without  making  a  sound.  A  few 
feet  away  sat  a  little  brown  baby-boy,  clothed  only  in 
a  tiny  shirt.  He  looked  up  at  big  Adam  wistfully. 
Strewn  about  were  a  few  utensils  for  cooking,  a  bag 
which  had  once  contained  flour,  the  dust  of  which  was 
in  patches  everywhere,  and  an  empty  water-bucket  and 
dipper,  with  all  the  bedding  and  blankets  from  a  rude 
wooden  bunk,  built  against  the  wall. 

In  amazement  Adam  stood  looking  at  the  man.  In 
the  haggard  face,  with  its  unkempt  beard  and  glassy 
eyes  he  fancied  he  saw  something  familiar.  Memory 
knocked  to  enter  his  brain.  Then,  with  a  suddenness 
that  gave  him  a  shock,  he  recognized  a  man  he  had 
known  in  England — an  elder  brother  of  Henry  Wains- 
worth,  supposed  to  have  died  years  before — drowned 
while  attempting  to  escape  from  an  unjust  sentence 
of  imprisonment  for  treason. 

"  Wainsworth  ! "  he  said,  "  good  faith  !  what  is  the 
meaning  of  this  ?  " 

The  man  sank  back  on  the  floor,  a  ghost  of  a  smile 
passing  across  his  face.  He  moved  his  lips  again,  but 
Adam  heard  not  a  word. 

Bending  quickly  down,  he  became  aware  that  the 
man  was  begging  for  water.  He  caught  up  the  bucket 
and  hastened  forth,  presently  finding  the  spring,  to 
which  a  little  path  had  been  worn  in  the  grass. 

Back  at  once,  he  placed  the  dipper  to  the  dried-out 


262  Hearts  of  Grace 

lips  and  saw  this  fellow-being  drink  with  an  evidence 
of  joy  such  as  can  only  come  to  the  dying.  Wainsworth 
shivered  a  little,  as  the  dipper  left  his  teeth,  and  jerked 
his  hand  toward  the  silent  child,  sitting  so  near,  on  the 
floor.  Adam  comprehended.  He  gave  more  of  the 
water  to  the  small,  brown  baby.  It  patted  the  dipper 
with  its  tiny  hands  and  looked  up  at  him  dumbly. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  happened  here  ? "  said 
Rust. 

Making  a  mighty  effort,  the  man  on  the  floor  partially 
raised  his  head  and  arms.  He  looked  at  Adam  with  a 
hungering  light  in  his  eyes.  "Fin — done — for,"  he 
said,  thickly  and  feebly. 

Adam  hustled  together  the  blankets  on  the  floor  and 
made  a  pillow,  which  he  placed  for  Wainsworth  to  lie 
on.  "  Shall  I  put  you  into  the  bed  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  crushed,"  he  said, 
winking  from  his  eyes  the  already  gathering  film  that 
tells  of  the  coming  end.  "  Tree— fell— killed  the — 
wife.  I — crawled — here. " 

Adam  looked  at  him  helplessly,  He  knew  the  man 
was  dying.  He  felt  what  agonies  the  man  must  have 
suffered.  "  Man  ! "  he  said,  "  can't  I  get  you  something 
to  eat  ?  " 

Wainsworth  waved  his  hand  toward  the  wreckage 
strewed  on  the  floor.  "  Nothing — here,"  he  said. 
Then  he  made  a  great  effort,  the  obvious  rally  of  his 
strength.  "  Save  the — boy,"  he  implored.  "  Give  him 
a — chance.  .  .  .Don't — tell — about  me.  I  married — his 
mother — Narragansett — God  bless — her.  .  .  .  Give — 
him — a — chance.  .  .  .  Thanks." 

As  he  mentioned  the  child's  mother,  his  eyes  gave  up 


A  Foster  Parent.  263 

two  tears — crystals,  which  might  have  represented  his 
soul,  for  it  had  quietly  escaped  from  his  broken  body. 

Adam,  kneeling  above  him,  looked  for  a  moment  at 
his  still  face,  on  which  the  shadow  of  a  smile  rested. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  little,  brown  youngster,  half 
Narragansett  Indian,  gazing  up  in  his  countenance  with 
a  timid,  questioning  look,  winking  his  big  black  eyes 
slowly,  and  quite  as  deliberately  moving  his  tiny  toes. 

It  was  not  a  situation  to  be  thought  out  nor  coped 
with  easily.  To  have  found  any  human  being  in  this 
terrible  plight  would  have  been  enough,  but  to  have 
found  Henry  Wainsworth's  brother  thus,  and  to  have 
him  tell  such  a  brief,  shocking  story,  and  make  of  his 
visitor  all  the  things  which  Adam  would  have  to  become 
at  once,  was  enough  to  make  him  stand  there  wonder 
ing  and  wondering  upon  it  all. 

"  You  poor  little  rascal,"  he  said  to  the  child,  at  last. 

He  selected  a  shovel  and  a  pick,  from  some  tools 
which  he  noted,  in  a  corner,  and  laying  aside  his  sword, 
he  went  to  work,  on  the  preface  to  his  duties,  out  by 
the  patch  of  corn  where  he  found  the  pretty,  young 
Indian  mother,  clasped  and  held  down  to  earth  in  an 
all  too  ardent  embrace,  by  an  arm  of  the  fallen  tree. 

When  he  had  padded  up  the  mound  over  the  two 
closed  human  volumes,  he  was  faint  with  hunger.  He 
carried  the  tools  again  to  the  house,  and  stood  as  before, 
looking  at  the  baby-boy,  who  still  sat  where  he  had  left 
him,  on  the  floor. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  are  hungry,  you  little  brown 
man/'  he  said.  "  I  must  see  what  there  is  to  be  had." 

There  was  little  opportunity  for  extended  explorations. 
The  one  room  had  contained  the  all  of  Wainsworth  and 


264  Hearts  of  Grace 

his  Narragansett  partner.  Bust  soon  found  himself 
wondering  what  the  two  had  lived  upon.  What  flour 
and  meal  there  had  been,  the  man,  despite  his  two 
crushed  legs,  had  pulled  down,  from  a  box-like  cupboard, 
on  the  wall,  together  with  a  bit  of  dried  meat.  Of  the 
latter  only  a  dry  fragment  remained,  still  tied  to  a 
string,  while  of  the  meal  and  flour,  only  the  empty  bags 
gave  evidence  that  they  once  had  existed. 

There  was  no  way  possible  for  Adam  to  know  that  in 
the  forest,  not  far  away,  the  lone  woodsman  had  set  his 
traps,  for  squirrels  and  rabbits,  nor  that  fifteen  minutes' 
walk  from  the  door  a  trout  stream  had  furnished  its 
quota  to  the  daily  fare.  He  only  knew  that  there  was 
nothing  edible  to  be  found  here  now.  There  was  salt, 
a  bit  of  grease,  on  a  clean  white  chip  of  pine,  and  a  half 
gourd,  filled  with  broken-up  leaves,  which  had  doubt 
less  been  steeped  for  some  manner  of  tea  or  drink. 

"  Partner,"  he  said,  to  the  child,  "someone  has 
been  enforcing  sumptuary  laws  upon  us.  I  hesitate  in 
deciding  whether  we  shall  take  our  water  salted  or 
fresh." 

With  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword  he  regarded 
the  youngster  earnestly.  Nothing  prettier  than  the 
little  naked  fellow  could  have  been  imagined,  howbeit 
he  was  not  so  plump  as  a  child  of  his  age  should  be,  for 
the  lack  of  nourishment  had  already  told  upon  him 
markedly.  Adam  felt  convinced,  from  various  indica 
tions,  that  the  tree  which  had  done  its  deadly  work 
had  fallen  about  a  week  before,  and  that  Wains  worth 
had  not  been  able  to  do  anything  more  than  to  crawl  to 
the  cabin,  to  die,  neither  for  himself  or  the  child. 

For  a  time  the  rover  wondered  what  he  must  do. 


A  Foster  Parent.  265 

His  own  plans  had  nearly  disappeared  from  his  mind. 
He  reflected  that  a  child  so  brown  as  this,  so  obviously 
half  a  little  Narragansett,  would  be  ill  received  by  the 
whites.  The  Indians  would  be  far  more  likely  to 
cherish  the  small  man,  according  to  his  worth.  He 
therefore  believed  the  best  thing  he  could  do  would  be 
to  push  onward,  in  the  hope  of  finding  an  Indian  settle 
ment  soon.  There  were  several  reasons,  still  remain 
ing  unaltered,  why  it  would  be  wiser  not  to  take  the 
child  to  Boston. 

"  Well,  our  faces  are  dirty,  partner,"  he  said,  at  the 
end  of  a  long  cogitation,  in  which  the  baby  had  never 
ceased  to  look  up  in  his  countenance  and  wink  his  big 
eyes,  wistfully.  "  Let's  go  out  and  have  a  bath." 

He  took  the  tiny  chap  up  in  his  arms  and  carried  him 
forth  to  the  spring.  Here,  in  the  warm  sunlight,  he 
got  down  on  his  knees  in  the  grass,  bathed  his  pro 
tege,  over  and  over  again,  for  the  pleasure  it  seemed  to 
give  the  child  and  the  joy  it  was  to  himself,  to  feel  the 
little  wet,  naked  fellow  in  his  hands. 

The  sun  performed  the  offices  of  a  towel.  Without 
putting  his  tiny  shirt  back  upon  him,  Adam  rolled  the 
small  bronze  bit  of  humanity  about  on  his  back,  pat 
ting  his  velvety  arms  and  thighs  and  laughing  like  the 
grown-up  boy  he  was,  till  the  little  chap  gurgled  and 
crowed  in  tremendous  delight.  But  it  having  been 
only  the  freshness  of  the  water,  air  and  sunlight  which 
had  somewhat  invigorated  the  baby,  he  presently  ap 
peared  to  grow  a  little  dull  and  weary.  Adam  became 
aware  thas  it  was  time  to  be  moving.  He  washed  out 
the  child's  wee  shirt  and  hung  it  through  his  belt  to 
dry  as  they  went.  Then  taking  a  light  blanket  from 


266  Hearts  of  Grace 

the  cabin,  for  the  child's  use  at  night,  he  left  the  cabin 
behind  and  proceeded  onward  as  before. 

He  walked  till  late  in  the  afternoon  without  discover 
ing  so  much  as  a  sign  of  the  Indian  settlement  he  was 
seeking.  By  this  time  his  own  pangs  of  hunger  had 
become  excruciating.  It  was  still  too  early  in  the 
summer  for  berries  or  nuts  to  be  ripe,  and  the  half 
green  things  which  he  found  where  the  sun  shone  the 
warmest  were  in  no  manner  fit  to  be  offered  to  the  child, 
as  food. 

Arriving  at  another  small  valley,  as  the  sun  was  dip 
ping  into  the  western  tree-tops,  the  rover  sat  down  for 
a  rest,  and  to  plan  something  better  than  this  random 
wandering  toward  the  sunset.  He  had  chuckled  en 
couragement  to  the  child  from  time  to  time,  laughing 
in  the  little  fellow's  face,  but  hardly  had  he  caught  at 
the  subtle  signs  on  the  small  face,  at  which  a  mother- 
parent  would  have  stared  wild-eyed  in  agony. 

Now,  however,  as  he  sat  the  tiny  man  on  the  grass 
before  him,  he  saw  in  the  baby's  eyes  such  a  look  as 
pierced  him  to  the  quick.  For  a  moment  the  infinite 
wistfulness,  the  dumb  questioning,  the  uncomplaining 
silence  of  it,  made  him  think,  or  hope,  the  child  was 
only  sad.  He  got  down  on  all  fours  at  once. 

"  Partner,"  said  he,  jovially,  "you  are  disappointed 
in  me.  I  make  poor  shift  as  a  mother.  Do  you  want 
to  be  cuddled,  or  would  you  rather  be  tickled  ?  " 

He  laid  the  little  chap  gently  on  his  back  and  tried 
to  repeat  the  frolic  of  the  earlier  hours.  He  rolled  the 
small  bronze  body  in  the  grass,  as  before,  and  petted 
him  fondly.  But  the  baby  merely  winked  his  eyes. 
He  seemed  about  to  cry,  but  he  made  no  sound. 


A  Foster  Parent.  267 

Adam's  fingers  ceased  their  play,  for  the  joy  departed 
from  them  swiftly. 

"  Maybe  you're  tired  and  sleepy,"  he  crooned. 
"  Shall  I  put  on  your  shirt  and  sing  you  a  little  Indian 
lullaby  ?  Yes  ?  That's  what  he  wants,  little  tired 
scamp." 

He  adjusted  the  abbreviated  shirt,  awkwardly,  but 
tenderly,  after  which  he  held  his  partner  in  his  arms 
and  hummed  and  sang  the  words  of  a  Wampanoag 
song,  which  he  had  heard  in  his  boyhood,  times  with 
out  number.  The  song  started  with  addresses  to  some 
of  the  elements,  thus  : 

"  Little  Brook,  it  is  night, 
Be  quiet,  and  let  my  baby  sleep. 

"  Little  wind,  it  is  night, 
Go  away,  and  let  my  baby  sleep. 

"  Little  storm,  it  is  night, 
Be  still,  and  let  my  baby  sleep. 

'  Little  wolf,  it  is  night, 
Howl  not,  and  let  my  baby  sleep." 

and  after  many  verses  monotonously  soothing,  came  an 
incantation  : 

"  Great  Spirit,  I  place  my  babe 
Upon  the  soft  fur  of  thy  breast, 
Knowing  Thou  wilt  protect, 
As  I  cannot  protect ; 
And  therefore,  oh  Great  Spirit, 
Guard  my  child  in  slumber." 

Adam  sang  this  song  like  a  pleading.     But  his  little 


268  Hearts  of  Grace 

partner  could  not  sleep,  or  feared  to  sleep.  Then  the 
rover  looked  at  the  tiny  face  and  realized  that  the  child 
would  soon  be  dying  of  starvation.  At  this  he  started 
to  his  feet,  abruptly. 

He  had  undergone  the  pains  of  hunger  often,  him 
self  ;  he  was  not  impatient  now  with  the  pangs  in  his 
stomach,  nor  the  weakness  in  his  muscles.  But  he 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  the  child  so  perishing, 
here  in  the  wilderness. 

He  saw  poor  Wainsworth  again,  and  heard  him  beg 
that  the  child  be  given  a  chance.  He  thought  of  the 
man's  shattered  life,  his  escape  from  persecution,  his 
isolation,  in  which  he  had  preferred  the  society  of  his 
Indian  wife  and  child  to  association  with  his  kind. 
Then  he  blamed  himself  for  coming  further  into  this 
deserted  region,  when  he  knew  that  by  going  back,  at 
least  he  could  find  something  for  the  child  to  eat — some 
thing  that  would  save  its  life  ! 

But  he  could  not  forget  that  he  himself  was  a  ref 
ugee.  Wrongly  or  rightly,  Kandolph  was  still  on  his 
track.  Nothing  in  his  own  case  had  been  altered,  but 
the  case  was  no  longer  one  concerning  himself  alone. 
He  took  the  child  on  his  arm,  where  he  had  carried 
him  already  many  miles,  and  faced  about. 

"  Partner,  let  them  take  me/'  he  said.  "  I  wish 
them  joy  of  it." 

He  started  back  for  Boston,  for  in  the  child's  present 
extremity,  the  nearest  place  where  he  could  be  sure  of 
finding  food  was  the  only  one  worthy  a  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

REPUDIATED   SILVER. 

SOMETIME,  along  toward  the  middle  of  the  night, 
Adam  tripped,  on  a  root  which  lay  in  his  path,  and  in 
catching  himself  so  that  his  small  partner  should  not 
be  injured,  he  sprained  his  foot.  He  proceeded  onward 
without  sparing  the  member,  however,  for  he  had  be 
gun  to  feel  a  fever  of  impatience. 

His  foot  swelled.  It  finally  pained  him  excessively, 
so  that  he  limped.  He  wore  away  the  night,  but  when 
the  morning  came,  he  was  obliged  to  snatch  an  hour  of 
sleep,  so  great  was  the  sense  of  exhaustion  come  upon 
him. 

His  face  had  become  pale.  With  his  hair  unkempt, 
his  eyes  expressive  of  the  fever  in  his  veins  and  his 
mouth  somewhat  drawn,  he  was  not  a  little  haggard,  as 
he  resumed  his  lame,  onward  march.  The  child  in  his 
arms  was  no  burden  to  his  enduring  strength,  but  as  a 
load  on  his  heart  the  little  chap  was  heavy  indeed. 
Sleeping,  the  miniature  man  appeared  to  be  sinking  in 
a  final  rest,  so  wan  had  his  tiny  face  become.  Wak 
ing,  he  gazed  at  Adam  with  such  a  dumb  inquiry  ever 
present  in  his  great,  wistful  eyes,  that  Rust  began  to 
wish  he  would  complain — would  cry,  would  make  some 
little  sound  to  break  his  baby  silence. 

269 


270  Hearts  of  Grace 

They  were  obliged  to  rest  frequently,  throughou  t  the 
day.  Try  as  he  might,  Adam  could  not  cover  the 
ground  rapidly.  Whenever  he  resumed  walking,  after 
sitting  for  a  moment  on  a  log,  or  a  rock,  he  found  his 
foot  had  become  so  bad  that,  in  the  late  afternoon,  he 
gave  up  halting  thus  altogether. 

The  twilight  came  upon  him,  then  the  night-fall. 
At  last,  with  a  smothered  cry  of  delight  on  his  lips,  he 
saw  the  gleam  of  a  light.  He  had  come  to  the  farm 
house  where  he  had  stopped  to  return  the  English 
dandy's  horse  and  to  eat  his  last  supper.  Thinking 
thereby  to  disguise  himself,  even  if  only  slightly,  he 
halted,  threw  off  his  leather  jerkin,  sword  and  coat, 
turned  the  latter  inside  out  and  concealed  his  weapon 
and  outside  garment  in  the  brush.  Thus  altered  in 
appearance,  he  dragged  his  aching  foot  across  the  space 
between  the  woods  and  the  house,  where  he  knocked 
upon  the  door  and  entered. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  cried  the  farmer,  in  a  fright  which 
recent  events  had  instilled  in  his  being.  He  was  a 
shaking  old  bachelor,  suspected  by  many  who  knew 
him  of  being  a  miser  with  a  great  horde  of  gold  on  his 
premises. 

Adam  was  confronted  by  the  man,  as  soon  as  he 
stepped  across  the  threshold. 

"Food,  man,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "Food,  or  this 
child  will  die!" 

The  man  recognized  him  instantly.  He  fairly 
quaked  with  dread. 

"Go  out!  Go  out!"  he  cried.  "  Fve  no  food 
here — I've  nothing  here  !  " 

"Peace!"  commanded    Adam.     "Bring  me  forth 


Repudiated  Silver.  271 

something  to  eat  for  the  child,  you  knave,  or  I  shall 
find  it  for  myself." 

He  looked  terrible  enough  to  execute  a  much  more 
dreadful  threat.  The  farmer  retreated  before  him, 
cringing  and  whining. 

"  I  have  nothing,  or  you  should  have  it,"  he  said, 
with  a  whimper.  <(  My  neighbors — ten  minutes'  walk 
up  the  clearing — go  to  them.  They  have  plenty,  and 
I  have  nothing." 

Adam  remembered  the  scantiness  of  the  fare  he  had 
tasted  here  before.  Nevertheless  it  had  been  food,  and 
anything  now  might  save  his  little  partner's  life. 

"Then  yon  go,  friend,"  he  ordered.  "Make 
haste  and  bring  me  what  you  can,  from  your  neigh 
bors'  ! " 

The  man  seemed  about  to  refuse.  He  changed  his 
mind  abruptly. 

"  I'll  go.  I'll  go  ! "  he  hastened  to  say,  and  without 
his  hat,  or  waiting  for  anything  further,  he  hobbled 
out  at  the  door  and  was  gone. 

Rust  lost  no  time  in  ransacking  the  cupboard.  To 
his  unspeakable  disappointment  he  found  that  the  man 
had  not  spoken  wide  of  the  truth.  There  was  as  little 
here,  in  the  way  of  a  few  gnawed  crusts  of  bread  and  a 
rind  of  cheese,  as  might  well  stand  between  nothing 
and  something  to  eat  and  to  feed  to  a  starving  child. 
His  heart  sank  within  him.  But  then  he  thought  that 
inasmuch  as  the  farmer  had  told  the  truth  about  his 
larder,  he  would  be  the  more  likely  to  have  spoken 
correctly  about  the  neighbors.  He  would  soon  be  back 
with  something  fit  for  the  wee  Narragansett. 

Adam  looked  at  the  baby  boy  compassionately*     The 


272  Hearts  of  Grace 

little  fellow  was  awake,   looking  up,  winking  slowly, 
asking  his  dumb,  wistful  question  with  his  eyes. 

Adam  patted  him  softly  while  he  waited.  "  I'm  a 
wretched  mother,  little  partner/'  he  said.  "  But  we'll 
soon  have  you  banqueting,  now.  Can't  you  speak  up  a 
little  bit  ?  Don't  you  want  to  give  old  Adam  just  one 
little  smile  ?  No  ?  Well,  never  mind.  Little  man  is 
tired." 

He  had  placed  his  charge  in  a  chair.  Soon  growing 
impatient,  he  limped  about  the  room,  crunching  a  crust 
of  bread  in  his  teeth,  abstractedly.  Unable  to  endure 
the  suspense,  he  went  again  to  the  cupboard  and  threw 
everything  down,  in  his  search  for  something  fit  for  the 
child.  There  was  nothing  more  than  he  had  seen  be 
fore.  He  went  to  the  water  pail  and  drank,  for  his 
mouth  had  found  the  crust  a  poor  substitute  for  food. 

Yet  no  sooner  had  he  sipped  the  water  than  a  sense 
of  the  deliciousness  of  the  dry  bread  pervaded  his  be 
ing.  He  ran  to  gather  up  the  other  crusts  at  once  and 
limped  to  the  child  in  a  frenzy  of  gladness. 

"  Here,  little  man,"  he  said,  kneeling  down  on  the 
floor.  <(  If  you  can  only  chew  that  up  and  then  take  a 
sip  of  water,  you  will  think  the  King's  kitchen  has 
opened." 

He  gently  thrust  a  small  piece  of  the  rock-hard  bread 
between  the  little  chap's  lips,  where,  to  his  intense  dis 
appointment,  it  remained. 

"  Can't  you  chew  it  ?"  he  said.  "  Just  try,  for  old 
Adam." 

The  child  was  too  weak  to  do  anything  but  wink. 
Its  appealing  gaze  was  more  than  Adam  could  stand. 

"  What  can  Adam  do  for  the  little  man  ?  "  he  said. 


Repudiated  Silver.  273 

He  limped  painfully  back  and  forth  again.  The 
farmer  should  have  returned  before  this.  What  could 
be  keeping  the  wretch  ?  The  rover  saw  that  the  little 
life  was  fluttering,  uncertainly,  not  yet  sure  of  its  wings 
on  which  to  fly  away. 

"  I  have  it ! "  he  cried,  in  sudden  exultation. 
"  Bread  and  water  !  " 

He  hobbled  across  the  room,  snatched  up  a  cup, 
crunched  a  fistful  of  crusts  in  his  hand,  put  them  in  his 
cup  and  filled  it  half  to  the  top  with  water.  Then 
he  stirred  the  hard  pieces  with  his  finger  and  crushed 
them  smaller  and  padded  them  up  against  the  side  of 
the  vessel,  working  the  mass  softer  in  feverish  haste. 
Impatient  to  get  results,  he  put  the  cup  to  the  baby's 
lips. 

"Drink,"  he  coaxed.  " Take  a  little,  like  a  good 
partner.  Can't  you  take  a  little  weenty  bit  ?  " 

Groaning,  thus  to  find  the  small  Narragansett  so 
weak,  he  hobbled  about  to  find  a  spoon,  with  which  he 
came  hastily  limping  back.  To  his  joy  then,  he  saw  a 
little  of  the  slightly  nutritious  water  disappear  between 
the  silent  lips.  He  crooned  with  delight,  hitched  him 
self  closer  and  plied  his  spoon  clumsily,  but  with  all  the 
patience  of  a  woman. 

The  child  began  to  take  the  nourishment  with  interest. 

Adam  was  happy  in  the  midst  of  this  new-found 
expedient,  when  the  door  behind  him  was  suddenly 
thrown  open,  violently,  and  in  burst  half  a  dozen 
constables,  armed  to  the  teeth  and  panting  wildly. 

"  Give  up  !  I  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  King  I " 
cried  the  foremost  of  the  men.  He  presented  a  pistol 
at  the  head  of  the  kneeling  man.  "  Take  him  ! "  he 
18 


274  Hearts  of  Grace 

screamed  to  his  following,  and  before  Rust  could  so 
much  as  rise,  on  his  wounded  foot,  he  was  suddenly 
struggling  in  a  mass  of  men  who  had  fallen  upon  him. 

He  got  to  his  feet.  He  knocked  three  of  the  con 
stables  endways.  But  his  strength  was  gone  quickly, 
so  long  had  he  been  famished,  and  so  far  had  he  taxed 
his  endurance.  They  overpowered  him,  making  a  noise 
of  mad  confusion.  They  threw  him  toward  a  chair. 
He  made  one  cry  of  anguish  and  protest.  Three  of  the 
scrambling  clods  fell  together  upon  the  little  partner, 
and  when  they  arose,  his  little  heart  had  ceased  to  beat. 

The  farmer-miser  now  came  worming  his  way  through 
the  door.  He  was  laughing  like  a  wolf. 

"  You've  got  him  !  "  he  cried.  "  I  told  you  !  I  told 
you  !  Heh,  heh,  heh.  I'm  not  in  league  with  thieves 
and  murderers.  Here,  here,  take  your  silver  !  I'll 
none  of  your  silver  !  " 

He  took  from  his  pocket  the  coin  which  the  rover  had 
paid  him  to  take  back  the  Englishman's  horse  and 
threw  it  hysterically  down  at  Adam's  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

LODGINGS  FOR  THE  RETINUE. 

THE  beef-eaters  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same 
day  that  Adam  was  arrested.  Alighting  from  the  coach, 
they  did  exactly  what  he  had  feared  they  would.  They 
wended  their  way  promptly  to  the  Crow  and  Arrow. 

Kandolph  and  his  henchmen,  having  missed  their 
intended  prey,  at  their  first  attempt,  were  engaged 
elsewhere  in  the  town,  attempting  to  make  good  their 
failure.  Believing  Rust  would  return  and  attempt  to 
see  Mistress  Merrill,  Randolph  kept  one  or  two  of  his 
creatures  in  the  vicinity  of  David  Donner's  house  day 
and  night.  But  Gallows,  being  for  the  time  totally  dis 
abled,  had  been  domiciled  at  the  tavern,  in  a  small 
apartment  off  the  tap-room,  where  he  spent  many  hours 
of  the  day  roaring  out  his  exceeding  displeasure  at  the 
turn  of  events  and  the  consequences  thereof,  into  which 
his  friends  had  brought  him. 

Pike  and  Halberd  appeared  at  the  inn  when  the  place 
was  all  but  deserted.  Naturally  the  tavern  had  become 
popular  with  the  Royalists,  but  it  had  been  gradually 
falling  into  disfavor  with  sailors  and  dock  hands  for 
several  years. 

Striding  haughtily  into  the  place,  the  beef -eaters 
accosted  the  landlord  familiarly. 

275 


276  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  My  good  fellow/'  said  little  Pike,  "  be  kind  enough 
to  let  the  Sachem  know  that  we  have  arrived  and  wait 
upon  his  pleasure. " 

"And  assure  him  of  the  excellence  of  our  health," 
said  Halberd." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mear,"  said  the  landlord, 
eying  the  pair  suspiciously  and  cudgelicg  his  brains  to 
remember  where  and  when  he  had  seen  them  before. 
"I  have  no  Mr.  Sachem  in  the  house." 

"  He  has  no  Mr.  Sachem  in  the  house,"  said  the 
beef-eaters,  in  chorus,  turning  to  one  another  with 
raised  eyebrows  and  indulgent  smiles. 

"This  surpasses  belief,"  said  Halberd. 

"  My  good  friend,  you  mistook  what  we  said,"  added 
Pike.  "  We  are  inquiring  for  The  Sachem — not  Mr. 
Sachem,  but  The  Sachem." 

"I  don't  know  the  Sachem,"  said  the  landlord, 
frowning  upon  the  guests.  "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  He  don't  know  the  Sachem  !  "  said  the  comrades, 
again  in  chorus.  They  looked  perfectly  incredulous. 

"  Then  I  pity  you  for  your  loss,"  Pike  remarked. 

"  But  if  he  is  not  at  this  house,  where  is  he  ?  "  asked 
Halberd. 

"  Tell  us  where  to  find  him  and  we  will  burden  you 
with  wealth,"  Pike  added,  grandly. 

The  landlord  began  to  be  certain  they  were  crazy. 
"How  should  I  know  who  it  is  you  seek?"  he 
asked. 

"  Water  !  fetch  me  water  ! "  roared  Gallows,  from 
the  adjoining  room. 

"  What  disturbance  is  this  ? "  Halberd  wanted  to 
know.  He  strode  to  the  door  and  looked  in  at  the  moun- 


Lodgings  for  the  Retinue.  277 

tain  of  meat,  propped  up  in  bed,  poulticed  and  patched 
past  all  semblance  to  himself.  "Friend/'  Halberd  said 
to  him,  boldly,  "  your  voice  needs  bleeding." 

"  Ha  !"  bellowed  Gallows,  "you  be  a  fool  and  I  be 

the  fool-killer  !  Let  me  get Howtch  ! "  He  made 

this  latter  exclamation  on  attempting  to  rise  from  his 
lair. 

Halberd  and  Pike  both  fell  to  the  rear  a  step,  at  the 
awful  voice  of  the  brute,  but  no  sooner  did  they  see  him 
sink  helplessly  down  on  the  couch  than  they  laughed 
in  eloquent  scorn. 

"  I  should  enjoy  nothing  better  than  to  slay  some 
thing  large,  before  dinner,"  little  Pike  remarked. 

"Tut.  This  is  my  recreation,"  said  Halberd. 
"  Come  forth,  friend,  till  I  warm  some  cold  steel  in 
your  belly." 

"  Leave  be  ! "  commanded  the  landlord,  coming  for 
ward  to  shut  the  door  between  the  rooms,  and  napping 
his  apron  at  the  belligerent  beef -eaters.  "  Let  me 
know  your  wants,  if  you  have  them,  and  if  not,  be  off 
about  your  business." 

"  Sensibly  spoken,"  said  Halberd.  "  All  we  desire  of 
you  is  that  you  let  the  Sachem  know  we  are  come." 

"  But  I  said  I  didn't  know  this  Sachem  ! "  cried  the 
exasperated  boniface. 

"True,  true,"  said  Pike.  "But  it  seems  too  mon 
strous  to  be  so." 

"  But,"  put  in  Halberd,  "  you  must  remember  that 
wealthy  young  nobleman,  who  paved  our  way  with 
gold,  when  we  were  with  you  a  number  of  years  ago. 
Surely  you  cannot  yet  have  spent  what  we  scattered  in 
your  house  ?" 


278  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  And  you  will  certainly  remember  the  drubbing  we 
gave  those  varlets,  with  the  flat  of  our  swords,  here  in 
this  very  room — some  dozen  of  the  fellows  there  were 
in  all,"  added  the  other  of  the  pair.  "They  dared  to 
insinuate  that  we  were  beggars — aye,  beggars,  for 
sooth  ! " 

The  landlord  remembered  them  now,  clearly  enough. 
He  restrained  himself  from  calling  them  vile  names, 
by  making  an  effort  truly  heroic. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,  I  do  recall  it  now,"  he  said,  cun 
ningly.  "I  believe  your  Sachem  did  even  call  here,  to 
ask  if  you  had  come.  Yes,  yes.  I  think  he  said  he 
meant  to  return  here  this  afternoon  again.  Was  he  not 
a  tall,  noble-looking  gentleman  ?  " 

"  Like  a  king,"  said  Pike. 

"  "With  a  manner  like  this,"  added  Halberd,  strut 
ting  and  swaggering  across  the  room.  "  He  should  have 
walked  in  over  several  prostrate  forms,  in  the  manner 
of  a  prince  and  our  associate." 

"The  same,  the  very  same,"  agreed  the  landlord. 
"He  is  certain  to  be  here  within  the  hour.  Sit  down, 
gentlemen,  and  let  me  serve  you,  and  then  I  shall  be 
honored  to  have  a  look  about,  myself,  to  see  if  I  may 
not  find  him." 

"  Said  like  a  scholar,"  Halberd  assured  him. 

"  We  do  this  honor  to  your  house  for  his  sake,"  Pike 
added. 

The  two  sat  them  down  and  the  landlord  hustled 
them  out  the  vilest  drink  he  could  draw,  tampered 
with,  as  it  was,  to  add  some  crude  substance,  the  effect 
of  which  on  the  brain  was  overpowering.  The  fellow 
saw  the  beef-eaters  drinking  and  waited  for  nothing 


Lodgings  for  the  Retinue.  279 

more.  He  scampered  away  from  the  rear  of  his  place, 
as  fast  as  his  limbs  could  convey  him. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  a  small  army  of  constables 
arrived,  captured  the  two  brain-fuddled  beef-eaters 
without  the  slightest  resistance  and  carried  them  off  to 
the  sumptuous  apartments  of  the  city  jail.  There,  with 
aching  heads  and  crestfallen  countenances,  they  dis 
covered  themselves  to  be,  when  the  baleful  effects  of 
their  drink  had  somewhat  abated. 

"  By  my  fighting  hand  !  "  said  Halberd,  "  I'd  not  be 
sworn  that  we  have  not  been  tricked. " 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

GABDE  OBTAINS  THE  JAIL  KEYS. 

UNBEKNOWN  to  his  retinue,  Adam  was  accommodated 
in  the  same  jail  where  Pike  and  Halberd  had  been 
landed  while  the  evening  was  still  comparatively  young. 
The  body  of  the  little  Narragansett,  brutally  snatched 
from  Adam's  arms,  had  likewise  been  brought  into 
Boston. 

Randolph  had  lost  no  time  in  having  Rust  examined 
and  declared  a  prisoner  of  the  state,  charged  with  a 
whole  category  of  crimes  against  the  peace  and  dignity 
of  the  King.  To  all  of  this,  and  to  nearly  all  of  their 
questions,  Rust  had  made  no  reply  whatsoever.  He 
realized  the  uselessness  of  pitting  his  one  voice  against 
those  of  half  a  dozen  perjured  rascals,  who  came  about 
him  the  moment  it  was  known  he  had  finally  been 
taken,  ready  to  swear  to  anything  which  would  be 
likeliest  to  jeopardize  his  life. 

Thus,  before  half -past  eight  that  night,  the  whole  of 
Boston  was  wagging  its  tongue  over  an  astonishing 
story,  instigated  at  once  by  Edward  Randolph.  This 
dangerous,  blood-thirsty  rascal,  Rust,  had  been  taken 
in  the  forest,  whither  he  had  fled  to  join  his  Indian 
wife,  and  in  his  struggles  to  avoid  arrest  he  had  slain 
his  half-Indian  child. 

This  was  the  indictment,  mildly  expressed,  that 
280 


Garde  Obtains  the  Jail  Keys.        281 

reached  the  ears  of  Garde  Merrill  concerning  her  lover. 
She  was  simply  appalled.  It  was  unbelievable,  it  was 
monstrous.  She  scorned  to  think  it  could  possibly  be 
true.  And  yet,  if  he  had  been  in  Boston  several  days 
before,  as  the  story  had  it,  why  had  she  known  nothing 
about  it  ?  The  whole  thing  had  been  a  gross  fabrica 
tion.  He  could  not  have  been  in  the  town  and  going  to 
a  tavern  to  mix  in  a  horrid  brawl.  He  would  certainly 
have  come  to  see  her  immediately  on  his  arrival.  He 
had  promised  to  return  in  about  a  week  from  a  visit  to 
the  beef-eaters. 

When  she  got  as  far  as  that,  she  suddenly  tried  to 
stop  thinking.  He  had  been  gone  many  weeks  instead 
of  the  one  ;  the  beef -eaters  had  not  been  with  him 
when  he  had  the  alleged  fight,  nor  when  he  was  cap 
tured,  and  he  had  mentioned  to  her,  on  their  walk 
from  Plymouth,  that  he  had  once  stopped  at  the  Crow 
and  Arrow,  where  the  brawl  was  reported  to  have  taken 
place. 

Nearly  frantic  with  the  terrible  thoughts  in  her 
head,  Garde  hastened  to  John  Soam's  to  get  what  she 
could  of  sober  truth,  which  John  would  have  as  no  one 
else  might  in  the  town. 

She  was  mentally  distraught  when  she  came  to  her 
uncle's.  She  had  carried  a  dish  belonging  to  her  aunt 
Gertrude,  to  make  an  excuse  for  her  late  evening  visit. 
She  was  more  glad  than  she  could  have  said  that  Pru 
dence  was  away,  for  her  cousin  knew  something  of  her 
feeling  for  Adam. 

Garde,  having  been  made  welcome,  had  no  need  to 
ask  questions.  John  Soam  was  telling  the  story  of  the 
night  with  countless  repetitions.  His  wife  cross-exam- 


282  Hearts  of  Grace 

ined  him  in  every  direction  which  her  womanly  in 
genuity  could  suggest. 

Thus  Garde  discovered  that  it  was  undeniably  true 
that  Adam  had  been  in  town  several  days  before  ;  that 
he  had  been  engaged  in  a  terrible  fight,  in  which  he 
had  inflicted  grave  injuries  on  Eandolph  and  one  of 
his  "  peaceable  officers "  ;  that  he  had  then  escaped 
back  to  the  woods,  from  which,  it  was  alleged,  he  had 
emerged  solely  for  this  fighting,  and  that,  when  cap 
tured,  he  had  a  half-Indian  child  in  his  possession. 

John  Soam  had  seen  the  body  of  the  child  himself 
He  had  heard  the  examination,  in  his  capacity  of  clerk 
to  the  court  and  magistrates.  Bust  was  lame,  he  said, 
and  he  was  a  sullen  man,  who  had  returned  no  answers 
but  such  as  cut  wittily.  He  had  not  denied  that  the 
child  was  his  own.  He  had  absolutely  refused  to  say 
whose  it  was  and  how  he  came  to  have  it.  He  had 
come  to  the  farmer's  house,  at  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
for  purposes  of  robbery.  There  was  every  reason  to 
believe  that  he  had  consorted  with  the  Indians,  and 
that  the  child  was  his.  It  was  a  pretty  child,  but 
many  thought  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  shockingly 
abused.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that,  when  he  had 
found  himself  being  taken,  he  had  profited  by  the  con 
fusion  to  slay  the  little  half-Indian  boy. 

Garde's  horror  grew  as  she  listened.  She  remem 
bered  terrible  things  that  Adam  had  told  her  when  he 
believed  her  a  youth.  He  had  excused  Randolph's 
conduct  with  Hester  Hodder,  hinting  broadly  that,  in 
a  case  he  had  in  mind,  he  thought  another  young 
woman — in  this  instance  Garde  herself — ought  to  for 
give  such  a  treachery  to  honor.  He  had  even  men- 


Garde  Obtains  the  Jail  Keys.        283 

tioned  that  she,  when  dressed  as  a  boy  and  browned, 
reminded  him  of  a  yonng  Indian  woman  whom  he  had 
known  and  liked.  He  had  lived  with  the  Indians  as  a 
boy  ;  he  had  gone  back  to  them  as  a  man. 

All  those  other  dreadfnl  half-confessions,  in  this  new 
light,  looked  no  longer  innocent — the  French  damsel, 
the  Countess,  and  the  others.  He  had  deceived  her 
about  going  to  New  York  to  see  the  beaf-eaters,  she 
told  herself,  in  agony.  He  had  gone  to  the  forest  in 
stead.  And  God  only  knew  what  things  he  had  done 
in  those  silent  woods  !  Had  he  abandoned  the  mother 
of  his  child,  as  Kandolph  had  done — or  had  he  com 
mitted  something  worse  ?  for  Hester,  in  the  similar 
instance,  had  died  so  strangely. 

At  least  it  was  plain  that  before  Adam  could  marry 
again  he  would  be  obliged  to  abandon  that  Indian 
woman.  And  what  if  she  were  Indian  ?  Was  she  less 
a  woman  ?  Would  she  suffer  less  agony  ?  Garde 
thought  of  Hester,  and  of  how  the  wild  young  thing 
had  begged  her  not  to  take  away  the  man  who  had  so 
cruelly  wronged  her.  The  picture  was  almost  more 
than  she  could  bear.  The  whole  affair  fell  upon  her 
heart  with  a  weight  that  crushed  her  happiness  into  a 
shapeless,  dying  thing.  In  whatsoever  direction  she 
turned,  Adam's  own  actions  and  words  confronted  her 
with  the  blank  wall  of  hideous  truth. 

She  knew  now  why,  after  he  had  walked  all  the  way 
to  Boston  at  her  side,  he  had  failed  to  appear  at 
Grandther  Donner's,  for  days  and  days.  She  saw  it 
all,  plainly — horribly  plainly.  It  was  so  absolutely  un- 
escapable.  And  yet,  he  had  seemed  so  honest ;  he  had 
spoken  so  of  love ;  he  had  so  convinced  her  heart  and 


284  Hearts  of  Grace 

her  soul  of  his  purity,  nobility  and  worth  !  She  loved 
him  still.  She  could  not  avoid  this.  It  had  grown  up 
with  her ;  it  had  become  a  part  of  her  very  being.  She 
would  love  him  always,  but — she  could  not  become  his 
wife — not  after  this — never  !  The  thought  of  such  a 
thing  made  her  shiver.  His  perfidy  was  almost  greater 
than  Randolph's — as  an  Indian  woman  would  have 
been  so  much  more  innocent  and  trustful  than  even 
Hester. 

Her  heart  cried.  "  Oh  ! "  and  yet  again,  "  Oh  ! "  in 
its  anguish.  If  he  had  only  left  some  little  loophole 
for  doubt — if  he  had  only  denied  their  accusations — if 
only  he  had  not  said  those  terrible  things  to  her,  upon 

the  highway,  perhaps <(  No,  no,  no,  no,"  she  cried, 

in  her  soul ;  this  was  compromising  with  loathsome  dis 
honor.  Far  better  it  was  that  the  awful  truth  was  so 
indisputably  established  !  It  left  her  no  ground  for 
excusing  his  deeds,  at  the  dictates  of  her  unreasoning 
love  !  Yet,  oh,  it  had  been  so  sweet  to  believe  in  him, 
to  love  him  without  reserve,  to  trust  her  very  soul  in 
his  keeping  !  She  wrung  her  hands  under  the  table, 
as  she  listened,  with  ears  that  seemed  traitors  to  her 
love,  to  all  that  her  uncle  could  add  to  the  story. 

She  soon  learned  that  Adam  was  Randolph's  partic 
ular  prisoner ;  that  there  had  been  some  old-time 
grudge  between  them,  and  that  the  crafty  man  of 
power  would  undoubtedly  make  an  effort  to  hang  his 
captive. 

At  this  her  womanly  inconsequence  was  suddenly 
aroused.  He  might  be  guilty,  but  she  had  always 
thought  him  noble  and  good.  She  would  never  marry 
him,  after  this,  but  she  would  love  him  forever.  He 


Garde  Obtains  the  Jail  Keys.        285 

had  been  her  idol,  her  king.  He  must  live,  for  at 
least  she  had  a  right  to  keep  enshrined  in  her  heart  the 
thought  of  him,  pulsating  heart  to  heart  with  her,  as 
onee  he  had.  No  !  He  must  not  be  permitted  to  die 
— not  like  this — not  in  infamy — not  at  the  hands  of 
this  monster  of  iniquity — this  Randolph  ! 

It  was  not  that  she  had  the  slightest  hope  that  he 
could  ever  be  the  same  to  her  again,  or  that  she  should 
ever  wish  to  see  him  again,  but  at  least  he  had  a  right 
to  live,  to  redeem  himself,  partially,  perhaps  to  suffer 
and  to  sorrow  for  his  deeds.  Indeed  he  must  so  live — 
he  must  so  redeem  himself  for  her  sake — to  justify  the 
love  and  the  trust  she  had  given  him  out  of  her  heart ! 

She  felt  that  she  should  choke  if  she  did  not  soon 
get  out  in  the  air.  She  wanted  to  run  to  the  prison, 
hammer  with  her  fist  on  the  gate,  demand  admittance 
and  set  him  free — free  from  Randolph's  clutches.  But 
she  knew  this  was  madness.  Her  mouth  grew  parched 
and  dry  with  her  excitement,  so  tremendously  held  in 
control.  How  could  she  manage  to  get  him  free  ? 
Oh,  if  only  she  dared  to  tell  her  uncle  John  and  get 
him  to  help  her  ! 

He  had  the  duplicate  keys  to  every  door  in  the  jail. 
He  brought  them  home  night  after  night  and  hung 
them  up  on — There  they  were,  now  !  They  hung 
there  within  reach  of  her  hand  !  Her  heart  knocked 
and  beat  in  her  bosom,  as  if  it  were  hammering  down 
the  barriers  to  Adam's  cell.  She  weaved  dizzily,  with 
the  possibilities  of  the  moment.  Just  to  take  those 
keys  and  run — that  was  all,  and  the  trick  would  be 
done.  He  could  go — and  their  love  would  be  a  thing 
of  living  death  1 


286  Hearts  of  Grace 

She  meant  to  take  those  keys.  The  impulse  swayed 
her  whole  being.  She  felt  she  would  die  rather  than 
miss  her  opportunity.  With  clenched  hands  and  with 
set  jaws  she  arose  to  her  feet. 

"  I  must  be  going  home,"  she  said,  with  apparent 
calm.  "  Oh,  what  was  that  ?  " 

"  What  was  what  ? "  said  her  aunt  and  uncle  to 
gether. 

"  Why — some  noise,  in  the  other  room,"  she  said 
with  a  tremor  easily  simulated,  in  her  excited  state. 
"  I  am  sure  I  heard  something  in  there,  moving  ! " 

"  Hum — let's  see,"  said  John. 

"It  might  be  that  I  left  the  window  open,"  said 
Goodwife  Soam. 

The  man  took  the  lamp,  opened  the  door  to  the  ad 
joining  apartment,  and  went  in,  followed  by  his  wife. 
Garde,  with  a  gasp,  and  a  clutching  at  her  heart,  lifted 
the  keys  from  their  nail  and  dropped  them  into  her 
pocket  with  a  barely  audible  jingle.  She  followed  her 
aunt  a  second  later. 

"  Why,  it  was — nothing,  after  all,"  she  said,  weaving 
a  trifle  in  her  stress  of  emotion  and  nervousness.  "  But 
the  window  was  up,  as  you  said.  Fm  glad  that  was 
all.  Good  night." 

"  Good  night,"  said  John  Soam  and  his  wife,  from 
the  window  which  John  was  pushing  down,  and  with 
out  waiting  another  minute,  Garde  let  herself  out  and 
sped  away  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
GARDE'S  ORDEAL. 

How  to  get  the  keys  into  Adam's  possession,  now 
that  she  had  them  in  her  own,  was  the  first  question 
that  presented  itself  to  the  mind  of  Garde.  Her  ruse 
at  her  uncle's  had  been  so  quickly  and  easily  planned 
and  executed  that  she  had  almost  fancied  Adam  freed 
already.  Yet  as  she  hastened  homeward,  filled  with 
conflicting  emotions  of  excitement,  grief  and  despair, 
she  soon  comprehended  that  her  task  had  not  as  yet 
really  begun. 

Could  she  only  ascertain  in  what  portion  of  the 
prison  the  rover  was  incarcerated,  she  thought  it  might 
be  possible  to  convey  him  the  keys  through  the  win 
dow,  provided  he  had  one  in  his  cell.  Thinking  of 
this,  she  naturally  remembered  the  jailer's  wife,  a  poor 
ailing  creature,  who  lived  in  the  building,  with  her 
husband,  and  to  whom  Goody  Dune  had  ministered, 
times  without  number,  frequently  sending  Garde  with 
simples  to  relieve  her  of  multitudinous  aches  and  pains. 
This  was  her  cue.  She  could  take  her  some  of  the 
herbs  of  which  a  plentiful  stock  had  been  collected  in 
the  Donner  household,  for  the  use  of  her  grandfather. 

Fortunately  David  Donner  had  so  far  progressed,  if 
not  toward  recovery,  then  at  least  toward  change,  that 
he  slept  for  hours,  like  a  weary  child,  waking  after 


288  Hearts  of  Grace 

dreamless  slumber  all  pink  and  prattling.  He  was 
thus  asleep  when  she  came  to  the  house.  She  was 
therefore  soon  on  her  way  to  the  prison,  her  simples  in 
a  small  basket,  hung  on  her  arm. 

The  hour  was  unusual  for  any  one  thus  to  be  visiting 
the  jailer's  wife,  so  that  the  good  woman,  when  Garde 
came  in,  after  knocking,  was  obviously  surprised  at  the 
honor. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Weaver,"  said  the  girl,  hurriedly,  "  I  heard 
you  had  been  having  trouble  here  to-day,  and  I  knew 
how  it  always  upsets  you,  and  Goody  had  given  me  all 
these  simples  to  bring,  three  days  ago,  so  I  thought  I 
had  better  bring  them  to  you  the  moment  I  knew  you 
were  being  so  worried." 

It  was  a  fact  that  the  jailer's  wife  was  invariably 
very  much  distressed  when  guests  were  thrust  upon  their 
hospitality.  She  always  feared  at  first  that  they  would 
get  away,  and  afterward  that  they  would  not,  as  her  ab 
horrence  and  then  her  sympathy  came  respectively  into 
play.  She  also  conjectured  all  manner  of  terrible 
things  that  might  at  any  moment  happen  to  Blessed 
ness  Weaver,  her  worthy  husband.  To-night  she  was 
particularly  nervous,  owing  to  the  sudden  increase  in 
the  jail's  population  and  the  blood-freezing  details  and 
rumors  afloat  as  to  the  nature  of  the  company 
assembled  under  the  roof  of  the  building. 

"  Dear  me,  lassie,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  Garde's 
well-chosen  speech,  "  do  come  in  directly.  I  am  that 
fidgety  and  poorly,  the  night  !  Lauk,  lassie,  but  you 
are  a  dear,  thoughtful  heart,  and  I  shall  never  forget 
you  for  this.  And  we  have  such  terrible  gentlemen, 
the  night ! " 


Garde's  Ordeal.  289 

She  always  called  the  guests  gentlemen,  till  she 
found  out  which  way  lay  the  sympathies  of  a  given 
visitor,  when  they  all  became  rogues,  forthwith,  if  she 
found  herself  encouraged  to  this  violent  language. 
Later  on,  again,  when  her  sympathies  for  their  plight 
were  aroused,  they  were  restored  to  their  former  social 
appellations. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you  ! "  said  Garde.  "  I  had 
heard  of  one  prisoner ;  but  could  you  have  had  more 
than  one  ?  " 

"Lauk,  yes,"  said  the  woman  rolling  her  eyes 
heavenward.  "  They  took  the  principal  rogue  in  the 
woods,  I  believe,  but  they  captured  his  two  brutal  com 
panions  at  the  Crow  and  Arrow  in  the  afternoon." 

This  was  news  to  Garde.  She  recognized  the  beef 
eaters  from  this  vivid  description.  If  Adam  had  his 
friends  at  his  side,  he  must  be  much  more  contented, 
and  they  would  all  be  planning  to  escape. 

"  And  so  all  three  are  under  lock  and  key,  safely  to 
gether  ?  "  she  said,  innocently.  "  How  fortunate  !  " 

"  Oh  dear  me,  no,"  corrected  Mrs.  Weaver.  "  The 
two  taken  by  daylight  are  together  in  the  southern 
exposure,  while  the  last  one  was  thrust  in  the 
dungeon.  Oh  Lauk,  Mistress,  but  he  is  a  terrible 
man  ! " 

Garde  felt  her  heart  sink,  even  though  it  never  ceased 
for  a  moment  to  beat  so  hard  that  it  pained  her.  Adam 
in  a  dungeon  !  How  in  the  world  could  she  ever  manage 
to  get  the  keys  to  him  now  ?  Dungeons,  she  knew, 
were  under  the  ground  ;  they  were  dank,  death-dealing 
places,  with  moldy  straw  in  one  corner  and  with  slimy 
rocks  for  walls.  She  could  have  cried  in  her  sudden 
'9 


290  Hearts  of  Grace 

wretchedness  of  spirit,  although  it  could  never  mean 
anything  to  her,  whether  Adam  lived  or  died,  in 
prison  or  out.  However,  she  mastered  herself  splen 
didly. 

"  A  dungeon  ?  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  didn't  know  you 
had  a  dungeon  here.  It  must  be  very  deep  down  in  the 
earth." 

"  It's  a  creepy  place ;  oh  lauk,  it's  that  creepy  ! " 
said  the  woman.  "  But  it's  not  so  deep,  dearie.  It's 
nine  steps  down.  I've  counted  the  steps  many's  the 
time.  But  it  is  where  we  puts  the  monstrously  wicked 
rogues,  such  as  this  bloodthirsty  man  !  And  it's  that 
dark,  my  dear — oh  lauk,  what  a  place  to  spend  the 
night!" 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  dark,"  said  Garde,  suppressing 
her  eagerness.  "  They  couldn't  have  a  window  in  such 
a  place  as  that. " 

"  Indeed  we  have,  though  ;  we've  a  window  in  every 
room  in  the  place,"  corrected  the  jailer's  wife,  with 
commendable  pride  in  the  architectural  arrangements. 
"  Oh  yes,  it  has  its  window,  no  bigger  than  my  hand, 
lassie,  and  slanting  up  through  the  rock,  but  it's  a  rare 
little  light  it  lets  in  to  the  poor  gentlemen  down 
below!" 

"  I'm  glad  he — the  prisoners  here  have  some  light," 
said  Garde,  honestly,  ' '  but  I  don't  see  where  such  a 
window  could  be." 

"  It's  on  the  dark  side  of  the  house,  night  and  day 
the  same,"  explained  Mrs.  Weaver.  "  It's  around  on 
the  dark  side,  where  no  one  would  find  it  in  a  month  of 
Sundays,  just  about  the  length  of  my  foot  above  the 
ground.  Such  a  small  thing  it  is,  and  the  light  it  lets 


Garde's  Ordeal.  291 

in  is  that  little !  Oh  lauk,  I'm  feeling  worse  to  be 
thinking  upon  it  ! " 

"  Then  you  mustn't  talk  about  it  any  more,"  Garde 
assured  her,  sympathetically.  "And  I  must  be  going 
home.  I  do  hope  the  simples  will  make  you  better,  and 
I'm  so  glad  I  came.  I  must  say  good  night,  for  I  suppose 
you  will  all  be  going  to  bed  very  soon." 

"  I  shall  be  there  directly,"  Mrs.  Weaver  informed 
her,  "but  dear  me,  Blessedness  won't  be  touching  a 
pillow  for  an  hour,  and  then  he'll  sleep  with  his  stock 
ings  on.  He  always  does  the  first  night  with  new 
rogues  in  the  house.  Good  night,  dearie,  and  God  bless 
you  for  a  sweet  child." 

Garde  went  out  and  walked  slowly  toward  Grand- 
ther  Donner's.  She  had  an  hour  to  wear  away,  for 
she  would  not  dare  to  be  searching  about  the  jail  before 
the  jailer  at  least  retired  to  his  couch. 

The  time  was  one  of  dread  and  chills.  Her  teeth 
chattered,  not  from  any  suggestion  of  cold  in  the  night 
air,  but  from  the  nervous  strain  of  this  time  of  suspense. 
She  had  never  been  so  frightened  of  any  action  in  her 
life,  as  she  was  when  at  length  she  crept  back  to  the 
prison,  through  the  dark,  deserted  streets,  and  began 
to  search  about  to  find  the  tiny  window  of  which  Mrs. 
Weaver  had  spoken. 

There  were  two  dark  sides  to  the  building.  One  was 
constantly  in  the  shadow  of  a  tavern,  which  almost 
abutted  against  it,  while  the  other  was  on  the  northern 
face  of  the  building,  in  a  narrow  street.  Garde  went 
first  to  the  northern  exposure,  for  in  order  to  get  at  the 
other  shaded  side,  she  would  have  been  obliged  to  climb 
a  low,  brick  wall. 


292  Hearts  of  Grace 

Scarcely  had  she  more  than  coine  to  her  destination, 
and  begun  her  feverish  search,  hefore  she  heard  the 
sound  of  distant  footsteps,  which  rapidly  approached. 
She  crouched  in  a  black  little  niche,  in  fear,  with  a 
violent  commotion  in  her  breast  which  threatened  to 
drop  her  down  in  a  swoon.  Almost  stepping  on  her 
toes,  some  pedestrian  passed,  leaving  the  girl  so  horribly 
weak  that  she  shut  her  eyes  and  leaned  against  the  wall, 
laboring  to  get  her  breath. 

Nerved  again  by  the  things  Mrs.  Weaver  had  told 
her,  she  came  out  of  her  hiding-place,  after  several 
minutes,  and  feeling  the  cold  rock-wall  she  passed 
eagerly  along,  shaking  with  her  chill  and  fearing  to 
breathe  too  loud,  in  the  silence. 

She  was  doomed  here  to  bitter  disappointment.  The 
window  was  not  to  be  found.  She  searched  again  and 
again,  unwilling  to  give  it  up,  but  it  was  not  there. 
She  realized  that  she  must  climb  the  brick  barrier,  and 
try  on  the  other  side  of  the  building. 

She  found  the  wall  not  difficult  to  surmount,  but 
when  she  jumped  down,  on  the  further  side,  she 
struck  on  a  heap  of  broken  crockery,  thrown  out  from 
the  tavern. 

She  crouched  down  instantly,  for  the  noise  she  had 
made  attracted  the  notice  of  some  one  in  the  public 
house.  A  door  at  the  rear  of  the  hostelry  was  thrown 
open  and  a  man  looked  out.  He  appeared  to  be  looking 
straight  at  her  and  listening. 

"  Must  have  been  a  cat,"  he  said,  to  somebody  back 
in  the  house,  and  he  disappeared  and  closed  the  door. 

Garde  could  not  have  been  any  more  wrought  upon 
than  the  whole  affair  had  made  her  already.  She  could 


Garde's  Ordeal.  293 

not  become  calm.  She  could  merely  wait  for  moments 
of  partial  relief  from  overwhelming  emotions. 

Thus  in  time  she  was  creeping  along  again,  feeling 
the  dark  stone  as  before  and  peering  vainly  and  desper 
ately  into  the  shadows  which  lay  so  densely  upon  the 
whole  enclosure.  Hastily  she  traversed  the  whole 
length  of  the  wall.  She  arrived  at  the  far  end,  ready 
to  sink  down  and  cry  in  anguish.  She  had  not  dis 
covered  the  window. 

Back  again  she  went,  choking  back  hysterical  sobs 
and  bruising  her  delicate  hands  on  the  rough  rocks,  as 
she  played  with  her  fingers  along  that  grim,  dark  pile. 
She  failed  again. 

Sitting  where  she  was,  in  the  grass,  which  was  grow 
ing  rank  in  the  place,  she  clasped  her  hands  in  despair. 
She  would  have  to  give  it  up.  There  was  some  mis 
take.  There  was  no  window. 

Yet  once  more  she  would  try.  She  could  not  give  it 
up.  The  dungeon's  horrors  and  the  terrible  character 
of  Edward  Randolph  made  her  fear  that  if  the  morn 
ing  came  before  Adam  was  free,  he  would  no  longer 
have  need  for  freedom,  nor  light. 

Slowly,  this  time,  and  digging  at  the  base  of  the 
stone-wall  that  rose  above  her,  she  felt  down  to  the  very 
roots  of  the  grass,  for  the  aperture  which  represented  a 
window.  To  her  unspeakable  joy,  her  fingers  suddenly 
ran  into  an  absolute  hole  in  the  solid  rock,  in  a  matted 
growth  of  roots  and  grass,  which  had  grown  up  about  it  ! 

She  sank  down,  momentarily  overcome  with  this  dis 
covery.  It  was  too  much  to  believe.  She  felt  she  was 
almost  dying,  so  insupportable  was  the  agitation  of  her 
heart.  But  she  presently  clutched  at  the  grass  and 


294  Hearts  of  Grace 

tore  it  away  in  a  mad  fever  of  haste.  She  dug,  with 
her  fingers  and  her  finger  nails.  She  could  smell  the 
odor  of  the  bruised  grass,  and  then  the  wholesome 
fragrance  of  earth.  She  had  soon  uncovered  a  small 
square  opening,  no  larger,  as  the  jailer's  wife  had  said, 
than  a  good-sized  hand. 

On  her  knees  as  she  was,  she  bent  her  head  down  to 
a  level  with  the  hole  and  put  her  lips  close  to  the  open 
ing.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  such  a  faintness  came 
upon  her  that  she  could  not  utter  a  sound.  She  had 
worked  with  a  tremendous  resolution  toward  this  end, 
and  now  the  flood  of  thoughts  of  everything  said  and 
done  that  evening,  came  upon  her  and  rendered  her 
dumb,  with  emotion  and  dread. 

Making  a  great  effort  she  essayed  to  speak  again. 
Once  more  she  failed.  But  she  waited  doggedly,  for 
the  power  she  knew  would  not  desert  her  in  the  end. 
Thus  for  the  third  time  she  mustered  all  her  strength 
and  leaned  down  to  the  window. 

"  Adam,"  she  said,  faintly,  and  then  she  waited, 
breathlessly. 

There  was  no  response.  There  was  not  a  sound  from 
that  tomb,  the  dankness  of  which  she  now  began  to 
detect  in  her  nostrils. 

"  Adam  !  "  she  repeated,  this  time  more  strongly. 

Some  subterranean  rustling  then  came  to  her  ears. 

"Adam!  Oh,  Adam!"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled  uncontrollably. 

"  Who's  that  ?  Who's  speaking  ?  Is  it  you,  John 
Rosella  ?  "  came  in  a  rumble  from  the  dungeon. 

She  failed  to  recognize  his  voice,  so  altered  did  the 
passage  from  his  place  of  imprisonment  make  it. 


Garde's  Ordeal.  295 

"Oh,  is  that  you,  Adam— Mr.  Rust?"  she  asked, 
trembling  violently. 

"  Garde  !  "  he  said,  joyously.  "  Garde  !  Oh,  my 
darling  !  Yes,  it's  I.  Where  are  you  ?  What  have 
you  done  ?  " 

Garde  felt  her  strength  leave  her  treacherously. 
Thus  to  hear  the  endearing  names  leap  upward  to  her 
from  that  terrible  place  was  too  much  to  bear,  after  all 
she  had  learned. 

"  Here — here  are  the  keys,"  she  whispered  down  to 
him,  haltingly.  "And  your  friends — your  two  com 
panions — they  are  also  in  the  prison.  I  hope — I  hope 
you  can  find  your  way  out.  I  am  dropping  them  down 
— the  keys.  Here  they  come."  She  tossed  the  bunch, 
which  she  had  taken  from  her  pocket  with  nerveless 
fingers,  and  now  she  heard  the  metallic  clink,  as  they 
struck  the  floor,  come  faintly  up  through  the  aperture. 

Adam  was  starting  to  say  something.  She  dared  not 
wait  to  listen.  Now  that  her  task  was  done,  she  knew 
she  would  absolutely  collapse,  if  she  did  not  at  once 
bestir  herself  to  flee. 

"  I  mustn't  stop  ! "  she  said  to  him,  a  little  wildly. 
"  Be  careful.  Good-by,"  and  without  even  waiting  to 
hear  him  answer,  she  arose,  thrust  a  bunch  of  grass 
back  into  place  over  the  opening,  and  hastened  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

EATS  Itf  THE  ARMORY. 

ADAM'S  disappointment,  when  he  got  no  more  re 
sponses  to  the  eager  questions  and  blessings  he  breathed 
upward  to  his  unseen  sweetheart,  was  keener  than  all 
the  anguish  he  had  felt  at  being  so  foully  imprisoned. 
He  had  caught  up  the  keys,  quickly  enough,  but  when 
he  failed  to  catch  any  more  of  her  trembling  words  he 
felt  more  deserted  and  surrounded  by  the  blackness 
than  he  had  been  in  all  this  new  experience.  However, 
his  heart  was  soon  tripping  with  gladness. 

At  least  it  was  Garde  who  had  come  to  save  him. 
Love  was  his  guardian  angel.  He  could  face  the  world 
full  of  foes,  after  this.  He  grew  impatient,  abruptly, 
to  get  out  of  the  dungeon  at  once  and  go  to  Garde — his 
brave,  darling  Garde  ! 

Then  he  thought  of  the  beef-eaters.  He  had  fancied 
he  heard  their  voices,  as  Randolph's  men  had  been  tak 
ing  him  into  the  prison  corridor.  It  had  seemed  im 
possible  that  they  had  already  arrived  and  been  appre 
hended  till  he  remembered  how  many  days  it  had  been 
since  last  he  had  seen  them. 

Having  been  asleep  when  Garde  first  called  down  to 

him,  through  the    tiny  air-passage,    the  rover  was  a 

little  refreshed.     But  he  was  still  nearly  famished  for 

something  to  eat,  having  been  provided  only  with  a  dry 

296 


Rats  in  the  Armory.  297 

chunk  of  bread,  as  large  as  his  fist,  and  a  jug  of  water. 
He  was  also  quite  lame,  for  he  had  not  been  able  to  do 
anything  for  his  wounded  foot. 

Nevertheless  he  was  alert,  now,  for  his  slumber  of  an 
hour  had  been  profoundly  deep  and  his  constitution 
was  one  of  great  elasticity,  rapidly  responding  to  the 
most  inconsiderable  restorative  influence.  He  hobbled 
about  in  his  small  den,  finding  the  door  without  diffi 
culty,  after  which  he  tried  the  lock  with  key  after  key, 
on  the  bunch,  until  he  thought  he  had  rejected  all, 
when  his  high  hopes  came  swiftly  tumbling  down. 

The  key  to  the  dungeon  had  not  been  found  among 
the  lot  on  the  ring  ! 

In  his  weakened  condition  this  apparent  discovery 
was  prostrating  in  its  dire  effect.  He  suffered  more 
than  he  would  have  done  had  there  been  no  attempt 
made  to  free  him  at  all.  He  felt  cold  beads  of  perspira 
tion  break  out  on  his  brow.  Hope  for  himself  and  the 
beef -eaters,  snatched  away  almost  as  soon  as  given,  un 
nerved  him.  Nevertheless  he  pulled  himself  together, 
to  try  every  key  in  the  bunch  again. 

The  first  one  he  handled  entered  the  lock  and  threw 
back  the  bolt. 

Cautiously  swinging  the  door  open,  he  suddenly 
started,  at  the  sound  of  some  one  approaching  in  the 
corridor.  In  a  second  he  was  back  in  the  dark  hole 
and  had  locked  the  door  again  upon  himself.  Weaver, 
the  jailer,  making  an  unusual  round  of  the  premises, 
came  down  the  dungeon-steps  and  tried  the  door. 
Satisfied  that  all  was  well,  he  proceeded  onward  to  his 
bed. 

Adam  lost  little  time  in  again  starting  forth.     This 


298  Hearts  of  Grace 

time  he  locked  the  dungeon  and  took  his  bunch  of  keys 
with  him.  He  climbed  the  nine  steps,  which  the  jailer's 
wife  had  so  frequently  counted,  and  found  himself  in 
the  corridor,  which  was  lighted  by  a  single  lamp,  which 
was  small  and  odorous.  Noting  his  bearings,  he  limped 
along  toward  the  cell  where  he  thought  he  had  heard 
the  beef-eaters  talking. 

There  was  no  sound  to  give  him  guidance  now,  and 
there  were  several  doors  confronting  him,  behind  any 
one  of  which  his  retinue  might  be  locked.  It  was  a 
matter  presenting  necessities  for  nicety  in  judgment. 
If  he  were  to  open  the  door  on  some  wrong  prisoner, 
the  ensuing  disturbance  would  be  most  unfortunate. 
Moreover,  he  did  not  know  but  what  there  might  be 
guards  galore  in  some  of  the  jail-apartments.  It  would 
not  do  to  call,  or  to  whisper,  for  the  sake  of  attracting 
the  beef-eaters'  attention,  for  obvious  reasons. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  open  door  after  door 
till  he  found  the  faithful  pair.  Luckily  the  doors  were 
numbered,  and  he  found  there  were  corresponding 
numbers  on  the  keys.  There  being  no  choice,  he  un 
locked  the  first  door  he  saw.  Shifting  the  bolt  cau 
tiously,  he  was  presently  able  to  listen  for  anything  like 
a  sound  inside  the  cell. 

He  could  hear  nothing.  The  room  was  empty.  To 
the  next  door  he  went,  and  repeated  his  simple  experi 
ment.  This  apartment  proved  to  be,  not  a  cell,  but  a 
place  in  which  all  manner  of  rubbish  had  been  thrown. 
It  also  contained  swords,  pistols,  some  blunderbusses 
and  other  arms.  The  room,  indeed,  was  the  prison 
armory.  Adam  nodded  at  this  discovery  as  being  good, 
but  it  left  him  as  far  as  before  from  his  friends.  Leav- 


Rats  in  the  Armory.  299 

ing  this  door  unlocked,  he  went  back  in  the  other  direc 
tion  and  tried  again. 

Listening  now,  as  before,  upon  opening  a  second  cell, 
he  heard  snoring.  Better  than  this,  it  was  snoring  that 
he  knew.  He  went  in  and  nudged  the  retinue  with  his 
foot. 

"  What,  ho!  Who  knocks  ?  "  said  Halberd,  in  a  sleepy 
growl. 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  Adam.  "  Get  up,  the  two  of  you, 
quickly.  "  We  are  about  to  seek  more  commodious 
apartments." 

"The  Sachem  I"  said  Pike. 

"  Who  else,"  answered  Halberd.  "  Sire,  I  have  been 
expecting  this  kindness  these  three  hours." 

"  You  may  expect  to  be  hanged,  in  the  morning,  if 
you  do  not  shut  your  mouth  and  come  with  me  in 
stantly,"  said  Rust. 

"  I  was  dreaming  of  my  wedding  with  a  fair  prin 
cess,"  said  Pike.  "  These  are  no  days  of  chivalry, 
when  a  man  will  leave  so  sweet  a  damsel  in  so  vile  a 
place." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  your  swords  and  side 
arms  ?  "  the  Sachem  demanded,  in  a  whisper.  "  Did 
they  take  them  from  you  ?  " 

"They  did.  Else  we  had  slain  the  whole  score  of 
rascals  that  took  us,"  said  Halberd. 

"  Make  haste,  then,  till  we  arm  anew,"  instructed  the 
rover. 

He  locked  the  door  behind  them  and  led  the  way  to 
the  armory  at  once.  They  had  gone  half  the  distance 
to  the  place  when  there  came  a  clanking  of  opening 
doors,  a  rattle  of  scabbards,  a  rumble  of  muffled  voices 


300  Hearts  of  Grace 

and  the  tramp  of  many  feet,  around  in  the  angle  of  the 
corridor,  leading  to  the  outside  world. 

"Quick  !  Quick  !"  commanded  Adam,  and  darting 
forward,  lame  foot  and  all,  to  the  armory-door,  he  opened 
it,  thrust  in  the  beef-eaters,  with  a  word  of  admonition 
to  beware  of  making  a  noise,  and  closed  the  barrier, 
only  as  Kandolph  and  six  of  his  creatures  came  tip 
toeing  down  the  passage  and  stopped  fairly  opposite 
where  Adam  was  standing. 

The  rover  reached  out  in  the  dark  of  the  room  they 
were  in,  as  he  braced  silently  against  the  door,  and 
felt  his  hand  come  in  contact  with  a  sword,  which  he 
had  noted  when  first  he  peered  into  the  room.  He 
could  hear  the  men  outside,  whispering. 

Weaver  was  with  them,  pale  and  frightened  at  what 
he  knew  these  midnight  visitors  contemplated  doing. 
He  dared  not  make  the  slightest  protest ;  his  master 
stood  before  him. 

"  Here,  is  this  the  room  above  the  dungeon  ?  "  said 
Eandolph.  He  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob,  the  inside 
mate  of  which  Adam  was  holding. 

"  No,  sir,  this  is  the  room,  here  upon  the  other  side," 
said  Weaver.  "  It's  a  few  steps  further  along." 

The  private  executioners,  with  their  chief,  were 
moving  away,  when  one  of  the  beef-eaters  stepped  upon 
something  on  the  floor  of  the  armory,  making  a  sound 
that  seemed  terrific. 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  demanded  Eandolph,  quickly. 

"We  have  rats  in  the  property  chamber,"  said 
Weaver,  honestly. 

"  It  sounded  too  big  for  rats,"  said  the  voice  of 
Psalms  Higgler,  whom  Adam  readily  identified. 


Rats  in  the  Armory.  301 

"  We  may  look  there  if  you  like,"  said  the  jailer. 

"  Never  mind  the  rats  at  present,"  dictated  Ran 
dolph.  "  Show  us  the  room  above  the  cellar." 

The  other  door  could  then  be  heard  to  open  and  to 
close  behind  the  visitors.  Adam  snatched  up  swords 
for  three  on  the  instant. 

"Here,  take  it — and  not  a  word,"  he  breathed, 
thrusting  a  weapon  upon  each  of  his  trembling  com 
panions.  "  If  they  come  for  us — fight ! " 

Silently  and  slowly  he  reopened  the  door,  having 
buckled  a  sword  upon  him.  There  came  a  light  patter 
of  footsteps  on  the  corridor  floor.  Just  as  the  rover 
was  stepping  forth,  Psalms  Higgler,  who  had  not  been 
satisfied  with  the  theory  of  the  rats,  came  gliding  to  the 
spot.  He  and  Adam  suddenly  faced  one  another,  a 
foot  apart.  The  startled  little  monster  stared  wildly 
for  the  briefest  part  of  a  second  and  then  would  have 
fallen  back,  yelling  like  a  demon  to  raise  the  alarm. 

Pouncing  upon  him,  without  a  sound,  yet  with  the 
terrible  strength  and  nimbleness  of  a  tiger,  Adam 
clutched  him  fiercely  by  the  neck,  with  both  his  power 
ful  hands,  and  choking  back  the  yell  already  starting 
to  the  creature's  lips,  lifted  him  bodily  off  the  floor,  to 
prevent  him  from  kicking  upon  it,  to  raise  a  disturb 
ance,  and  carried  him,  squirming  and  writhing,  to  the 
door  by  which  the  visitors  had  so  recently  entered. 

"  Open  the  door  !  Open  the  door  and  get  out ! " 
ordered  Rust  of  his  followers,  sternly,  never  for  a  mo 
ment  relaxing  his  grip  or  his  lift  on  Higgler.  "  Lift 
the  bar  !  Lift  it !  There  ! " 

The  door  swung  open.  The  beef-eaters  sprang  out 
side,  trying  both  to  go  at  once.  The  commotion  they 


302  Hearts  of  Grace 

made  rang  through  the  building.  Adam  was  after 
them  swiftly,  forgetting  to  limp,  as  he  felt  the  outside 
air  in  his  face. 

Higgler  by  this  was  becoming  absolutely  limp. 
Adam  dropped  him  on  the  ground,  where  he  lay, 
barely  left  alive  and  unable  to  move  or  to  speak. 

Adam  had  the  keys  in  his  pocket,  the  largest  one 
uppermost.  This  was  the  one  to  this  outside  door. 
He  could  hear  the  men  inside  running  toward  the  spot 
and  already  shouting  the  alarm.  He  dared  to  lock 
the  door,  deliberately,  and  to  pull  out  the  key  and  put 
it  again  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  calmly  drew  the  bor 
rowed  sword  from  its  scabbard,  rammed  its  end  smartly 
home,  in  the  key-hole  and  snapped  it  off  short,  spiking 
the  aperture  completely. 

Already  the  beef-eaters  were  running  up  the  street. 
Psalms  Higgler  was  drawing  his  breath  in  awful  gasps, 
where  he  lay. 

"  Good  friend,  farewell,"  said  Rust  to  him,  cheer 
fully.  "  I  shall  be  pleased  to  report  you  an  excellent 
rat-catcher,  at  the  earliest  opportunity  afforded." 

He  disappeared  from  Higgler's  ken  in  a  twinkling 
and  soon  overtook  his  retinue,  making  good  time  for 
the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

LOVE'S  LONG  GOOD-BY. 

AWARE  that  his  ruse  in  locking  the  jail  npon  his 
jailers  would  hold  them  only  till  they  could  think  of 
taking  off  the  lock  and  knocking  out  the  sword-end, 
Adam  was  nevertheless  determined  upon  going  to  David 
Donner's  residence,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  Mistress 
Garde. 

With  this  purpose  in  view,  and  expecting  his  pur 
suers  to  be  soon  on  a  keen  race  for  the  open  flats, 
which  he  had  been  known  to  cross  before,  in  his  suc 
cessful  escape  to  the  woods,  he  led  his  retinue  straight 
off  at  right  angles  from  such  a  course,  and  brought 
them  in  fifteen  minutes  to  the  silent  ship-yard  of 
William  Phipps. 

Here,  with  small  ado,  they  climbed  the  fence  and 
struck  across  the  enclosure,  past  the  gaunt  skeleton  of 
a  ship,  growing  on  the  ways,  and  so  came  to  a  quiet  bit 
of  water,  at  the  private  landing,  where  three  small 
boats  were  moored  in  safety. 

The  trio  were  soon  aboard  the  lightest  skiff  and  row 
ing  her  westward,  with  silent,  effectual  strokes. 
Guided  by  the  rover,  the  beef -eaters  steered  for  the 
shore,  and  after  a  ten-minute  pull  Adam  landed  near 
the  spot  where  he  had  sat  upon  a  rock,  waiting  for 

3°3 


304  Hearts  of  Grace 

night,  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  meeting  with  his 
sweetheart. 

"  Wait  for  me  here,"  he  said.     "  I  shall  not  be  long." 

He  was  soon  at  the  gate  and  then  in  the  garden. 
There  was  not  a  sound  to  be  heard.  The  house  was 
dark.  He  raised  a  little  whistle,  as  he  slowly  walked 
about  the  place,  watching  the  windows  intently. 

Garde  heard  him.  She  was  up.  She  had  not  had  a 
moment  of  peace  or  freedom  from  dreadful  suspense 
since  arriving  at  the  house,  while  waiting,  listening, 
starting  at  all  those  uncanny  sounds  of  stretching,  in 
which  a  building  will  indulge  itself  at  night.  Greater 
unhappiness  or  despair  she  had  never  known,  nor 
greater  worry,  fearing  that  Adam  would  come,  and 
then  fearing  more  that  he  would  not. 

When  she  heard  him  whistle,  her  heart  seemed  sud 
denly  dislodged  in  her  bosom.  Her  breath  came 
laboredly.  She  opened  the  window  in  the  kitchen, 
this  room  being  furthest  from  her  grandfather's  apart 
ment,  and  saw  Adam  limp  eagerly  toward  her. 

"  Garde  !— Sweetheart !"  he  said. 

"  Oh — oh,  you — you  got  away,"  she  faltered,  faintly. 
"  Here,  I  have — tied  you  up — a  luncheon.  Take  it, 
please,  and — and  you  had  better  go — at  once." 

"  God  bless  you  ! "  said  Adam,  stuffing  the  parcel 
she  gave  him  inside  his  coat.  "  1  have  brought  you 
back  the  keys.  My  Garde !  My  own  blessed  sweet 
heart.  Oh,  Garde,  dearest,  come  out  to  me,  just  for  a 
moment — just  for  one  little  good-by." 

"  I — I  cannot,"  Garde  said,  fighting  heroically  against 
the  greatest  temptation  she  had  ever  known.  "  We 
must  say — good-by,  now,  and  I  must " 


Love's  Long  Good-by.  305 

"  Yes,  I  know,  dear/'  he  broke  in  impetuously,  "  but 
just  for  a  moment,  just " 

He  was  at  the  window.  He  tried  to  take  her  hands, 
to  draw  her  toward  him.  She  shrank  away  with  an 
action  so  strange  that  his  sentence  died  on  his  lips. 
"Why,  Garde/'  he  said,  "can't  I  even  touch  your 
hands?" 

She  shook  her  head.  He  could  barely  see  her,  in  the 
pale  light  which  the  stars  diffused. 

"  I — I  must  never  see — never  see  you — again,"  she 
stammered,  painfully,  "we  must  say — say  good-by." 

"You  must  never Garde — why — we  must  say — 

But,  Garde,  dear, — I  don't  understand  you.  What 
does  all  this  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  please  go — now,"  she  said.  "  That  is  all — all 
I  can  say.  It  must  be  good-by." 

Adam  was  made  dumb  for  a  moment.  He  stared  at 
her  unbelievingly.  He  passed  his  hand  across  his 
brow,  as  if  he  feared  his  fasting  and  long-endured  labors 
had  weakened  his  mind. 

"What  in  heaven's  name  has  happened  ?"  he  said, 
as  if  partially  to  himself.  "  Am  I  Adam  Rust  ?  Are 
you  Garde  ?  Say  good-by  ? — Dearest,  has  anything 
happened  ?  " 

She  nodded  to  him,  forcing  back  the  sob  that  arose 
in  her  throat.  "  Something — something  has  happened," 
she  repeated.  For  maidenly  shame  she  could  not 
broach  the  subject  of  the  Indian  child. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment  before  replying. 

"  But  you  came  to-night  and  gave  me  the  keys,  an 
hour  or  so  ago, "he  said,  in  wonderment  and  confusion. 
"You  did  that?" 

20 


306  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  I — couldn't— do  less,"  she  answered,  mastering  her 
love  and  anguish  by  a  mighty  resolution. 

"  Do  you  mean — you  would  have  done  the  same  for 
anybody  ?"  he  asked.  And  seeing  her  nod  an  affirm 
ative  he  gave  a  little  laugh.  "  I  am  crazy  now,  or  I 
have  been  crazy  before,"  he  told  himself.  "  Something 
has  happened.  Something —  Of  course — it  couldn't 

help  happening,  in  time.  Some  one  has  told  you I 

might  have  known  it  would  happen  .  .  .  And  yet — you 
once  said  you  could  wait  for  me  fifty  years.  And  I  be 
lieved  it.  .  .  .  Well,  I  thank  you.  I  have  been  amused." 

His  broken  sentences  seemed  to  Garde  to  fill  in  the 
possible  gaps  of  the  story — to  make  his  confession 
complete.  But  Adam  had,  in  reality,  stopped  himself 
on  the  verge  of  accusing  her  of  listening  to  the  love- 
making  of  some  one  other  than  himself,  in  his  absence. 

She  made  no  reply  to  what  he  had  said.  She  felt 
there  was  absolutely  nothing  she  could  say.  Her  heart 
would  have  cried  out  to  him  wildly.  When  he  spoke 
so  lightly  of  the  fifty  years  which  she  could  have 
waited,  she  swayed  where  she  stood,  ready  to  drop. 
Almost  one  atom  more  of  impulse  and  she  would  have 
thrown  herself  in  his  arms,  crying  out  her  love  pas 
sionately,  in  defiance  of  the  story  of  his  perfidy.  But 
her  honor,  her  maidenly  resolution,  steeled  her  in  the 
nick  of  time.  Though  her  heart  should  break,  she 
could  not  accept  the  gilded  offer  of  such  a  love. 

"  Oh,  Garde — sweetheart,  forgive  me,"  said  Adam, 
after  a  moment  of  terrible  silence.  "I  have  wronged 
you.  Forgive  me  and  tell  me  it  is  all  some  nightmare 
— some  dreadful " 

The  night  stillness  was  broken  by  the  sound  of  men 


Love's  Long  Good-by.  307 

running  swiftly  up  the  street.  Kandolph  had  thought 
of  the  possibility  of  Adam's  visit  to  Mistress  Merrill. 

Garde  heard  and  comprehended.  Eust  heard  and 
was  careless. 

"  Oh,  go,  Ad — Mr.  Rust,  please  go  at  once,"  pleaded 
the  girl  already  closing  down  the  window. 

"  Garde  !  Garde  ! — not  forever  ?  "  cried  the  man  in 
a  last  despair. 

"  Forever,"  she  answered,  so  faintly  that  he  barely 
heard,  and  then  the  window  came  down  to  its  place. 

Limping  back  into  the  shadow,  at  the  rear  of  the 
garden,  Adam  lay  out  full  length  on  the  ground,  as 
two  tiptoeing  figures  entered  the  gate  and  came  sneak 
ing  silently  about  the  somber  house.  He  saw  them 
make  a  circuit  of  the  garden.  One  of  them  walked  to 
within  a  rod  of  where  he  lay — therefore  within  a  rod  of 
death, — and  then  turned  uncertainly  away  and  retired 
from  the  place  with  his  fellow-hound. 

The  rover  heard  them  go  on  up  the  street,  hurriedly 
making  toward  the  woods.  He  came  back  to  the  place 
by  the  window,  at  last,  and  whistled  softly  once  again, 
unable  to  believe  that  what  he  had  heard  could  be  so. 
There  must  be  some  explanation,  if  only  he  could  get 
it. 

There  was  no  response,  partially  for  the  reason  that 
Garde  had  sunk  down  upon  the  floor,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  window,  in  a  dead  faint. 

His  lameness  fully  upon  him  again,  Adam  hobbled  a 
few  steps  away,  halted  to  look  back,  yearningly,  and 
then  once  more  dragged  himself  off,  to  join  the  faithful 
beef-eaters,  waiting  in  patience  with  the  boat. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

MUTATIONS. 

WHILE  Garde,  heart-broken,  pale  and  ill,  was  restor 
ing  her  uncle's  keys  to  their  accustomed  hook,  in  the 
morning,  Adam  and  his  retinue  were  taking  a  much 
needed  sleep  in  the  woods. 

Having  recovered  his  own  good  sword  and  his  leather 
jerkin,  from  the  place  where  he  had  concealed  them,  on 
the  evening  of  his  capture,  he  had  led  the  beef-eaters 
into  a  maze  of  trees  where  no  one  in  Boston  could  have 
found  them,  and  here  he  was  doing  his  best  to  prove 
himself  a  cheerful  and  worthy  companion,  to  share  their 
natural  distresses. 

Refusing  at  first  to  eat  of  the  luncheon  provided  by 
Garde,  the  rover  finally  yielded  to  the  importunities  of 
his  companions,  and  thereby  got  much  needed  refresh 
ment.  By  noon  they  were  far  on  their  way  toward  New 
Amsterdam,  their  only  safe  destination.  They  kept 
close  to  the  edge  of  the  woods,  as  they  went,  remaining 
thereby  in  touch  with  the  farms,  on  which  they  de 
pended,  in  their  penniless  condition,  for  something  to 
eat. 

By  sheer  perversity,  Adam  wore  away  his  lameness. 
He  bathed  his  foot  often  and  he  also  wrapped  it  in 
leaves,  tho  benificent  qualities  of  which  he  had  learned 
from  the  Indians,  years  before,  and  this  did  as  much, 


Mutations.  309 

or  more,  than  his  doggedness  to  make  repairs  in  the 
injured  tendons. 

They  were  many  days  on  this  wearisome  march  which 
contrasted,  for  Adam,  so  harshly  with  that  other  stroll, 
to  Boston,  from  Plymouth.  On  many  occasions  they 
went  hungry  for  a  day  and  a  night  together.  But  what 
with  cheer  and  good  water,  they  lost  nothing  of  their 
health. 

With  boots  beginning  to  gape  at  the  toes,  and  with 
raiment  dusty  and  faded,  they  arrived,  at  last,  at  the 
modest  house,  at  the  corner  of  Cedar  and  William 
streets,  in  New  Amsterdam,  where  Captain  William 
Kidd  resided  with  his  wife.  Here  they  were  made 
welcome.  On  behalf  of  himself  and  his  comrades,  Adam 
presently  secured  a  working  passage  to  Hispaniola, 
where  he  meant  to  rejoin  William  Phipps,  in  the  search 
for  the  sunken  treasure.  He  could  think  of  nothing 
else  to  do,  and  he  had  no  longer  the  slightest  desire  to 
remain  on  American  soil. 

Prior  to  sailing,  however,  he  wrote  a  long,  detailed 
account  of  his  finding  the  man  and  his  Indian  child, 
with  all  the  incidents  related  thereto,  which  he  for 
warded  straight  to  Henry  Wainsworth.  This  concluded 
his  duties.  He  only  regretted,  he  said  in  his  letter  to 
Henry,  that  he  could  not  apprise  him  of  what  disposi 
tion  had  been  made  of  the  body  of  the  little  man, 
Henry's  nephew,  when  the  minions  of  Randolph  took 
it  in  their  charge. 

This  letter  came  duly  into  Henry  Wainsworth's  pos 
session.  Having  been  aware,  as  no  other  man  in  Mas 
sachusetts  was,  that  his  refugee  brother  was  living  his 
isolated  life  in  the  woods,  Henry  was  much  overcome 


310  Hearts  of  Grace 

by  this  sad  intelligence.  He  made  what  cautious  in 
quiries  he  dared,  with  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  what 
had  become  of  the  little  body.  He  then  made  a 
pilgrimage  into  the  woods,  stood  above  the  grave  which 
Adam  had  made,  and  then,  taking  a  few  worthless 
trinkets,  as  mementoes,  from  the  deserted  cabin,  he 
came  sadly  away. 

But  not  Henry's  sadness,  nor  yet  that  of  Garde, 
served  to  do  more  than  to  signalize  the  sense  of  afflic 
tion  which  the  citizens  of  the  colony  felt  had  come  upon 
them.  They  had  been  a  joyless  people,  with  their 
minds  and  their  bodies  dressed  in  the  somber  hues  sug 
gested  by  a  morbid  condition  of  religious  meditation, 
but  at  least  they  had  enjoyed  the  freedom  for  which 
they  had  come  so  far  and  fought  so  persistently.  With 
their  charter  gone,  and  the  swift  descent  upon  them  of 
the  many  things  which  they  had  found  intolerable  in 
England,  they  were  a  melancholy,  hopeless  people  in 
deed. 

But  even  as  Garde's  sorrow  typified  that  of  her  fel 
low-beings,  so  did  the  fortitude  and  uncomplaining  cour 
age,  with  which  she  endured  her  burden,  typify  the 
stolid  suffering  of  the  citizens  of  Massachusetts,  in  this 
hour  of  their  first  great  "  national "  woe. 

The  summer  ripened  and  passed.  The  autumn 
heralded  the  ermine-robed  King  Winter,  with  glorious 
pageantry.  The  trees  put  on  their  cloth  of  gold  and 
crimson,  and  when  the  hoary  monarch  came,  the  mil 
lions  of  leaves  strewed  his  path,  and,  prostrate  before 
his  march,  laid  their  matchless  tapestry  beneath  his 
merciless  feet. 

During  all  this  time  Randolph  had  made  no  sign  to- 


Mutations.  311 

ward  his  revenge  upon  Garde,  for  the  scorn  with  which 
she  had  cast  him  from  her  side.  No  petty  vengeance 
would  gratify  his  malignant  spirit.  The  whole  colony 
must  suffer  for  this  indignity,  and  Garde  and  her 
grandfather  should  feel  his  hand  mightily,  when  all  was 
ready.  He  prepared  his  way  with  extreme  caution. 
He  was  never  hurried.  He  laid  wires  to  perform  his 
mischief  far  ahead.  Indeed  he  lingered  almost  too 
long,  in  his  greed  to  prolong  his  own  anticipation  of 
what  was  to  be. 

Thus  in  December  of  that  year,  1686,  the  frigate 
"  Kingfisher,"  from  England,  brought  to  the  colony 
their  newly-appointed  Governor,  Sir  Edmund  Andros, 
who  assumed  the  reins  of  power  with  an  absolute  thor 
oughness  which  left  Randolph  somewhat  shorn  of  his 
capacity  for  working  evil. 

Andros,  who  had  formerly  been  Governor  for  New 
York,  for  a  matter  of  three  years,  was  a  person  of  com 
mendable  character,  in  many  respects,  but  the  policy 
which  he  had  come  to  put  into  being  and  force  was 
stupid,  oppressive  and  offensive  to  the  people  he  had  to 
govern.  Being  the  thorough  Tory  that  he  was,  he  en 
forced  the  policy  with  a  vigor  which  brought  upon  him 
the  detestation  of  the  Puritans,  who  visited  the  errors 
he  was  ordered  to  commit  upon  his  own  less  guilty 
head. 

The  Puritans,  in  the  extremes  to  which  they  had 
fled,  in  their  separation  from  the  English  forms  of  wor 
ship,  had  adopted  a  rigid  simplicity  in  which  the  whole 
fabric  of  ceremonials  had  been  swept  away  bodily. 
They  rang  no  bells  for  their  divine  service ;  they  re 
garded  marriage  as  a  civil  contract,  purely ;  they 


312  Hearts  of  Grace 

observed  no  festivals  nor  holidays  of  the  church  ;  they 
buried  their  dead  in  stolid  silence.  They  abhorred  the 
English  rites. 

Governor  Andros  inaugurated  countless  ceremonies. 
That  very  Christmas  the  English  party  of  Boston  held 
high  revel  in  the  city.  The  Puritans  refused  to  close 
their  shops,  or  to  join  either  in  rites  or  merriment. 
They  brought  in  their  fire-wood  and  went  about  their 
business,  grim-faced  and  scowling  darkly  upon  the  inno 
vations  come  among  them,  with  their  fascinations  for 
the  young  and  their  enchantment  of  the  frivolous. 

The  offenses  against  their  rigid  notions  increased 
rapidly.  In  February  they  beheld,  with  horror,  the 
introduction  of  a  new  invention  of  the  devil.  One 
Joseph  Mayhem  paraded  in  the  main  street  of  Boston 
with  a  rooster  fastened  on  his  back, — where  it  flapped 
its  wings  frantically, — while  in  his  hand  the  fellow 
carried  a  bell,  on  which  he  made  a  dreadful  din  as 
he  walked.  Behind  him  came  a  number  of  ruffians, 
blindfolded  and  armed  with  cart-whips.  Under  pre 
tense  of  striking  at  Mayhem  and  the  chanticleer,  they 
cut  at  the  passers-by,  roaring  with  laughter  and  other 
wise  increasing  the  attention  which  their  conduct 
attracted.  This  exhibition  was  thought  to  smack  of 
Papacy  and  the  hated  days  of  Laud. 

The  church  itself  was  invaded.  There  was  as  yet  no 
Church  of  England  in  the  town.  Governor  Andros 
therefore  attended  with  the  Puritans,  at  their  own 
house  of  meeting,  but  to  their  unnameable  horror,  he 
compelled  Goodman  Needham,  the  sexton,  to  ring  the 
bell,  according  to  English  usage. 

Rebellion  being  impossible,  the  Puritans  nursed  their 


Mutations.  313 

grievances  in  sullen  stolidity.  They  were  powerless, 
but  never  hopeless  of  their  opportunity  still  to  come. 

Taxation  came  as  a  consequence  of  the  pomp  in  which 
the  new  Governor  conceived  it  to  be  his  right  to  exist, 
as  well  as  the  natural  result  of  his  glowing  reports  to 
England  that  the  people  could  be  made  to  disgorge  and 
would  not  resist. 

To  crown  their  heritage  of  woe,  Edward  Kandolph, 
profiting  by  their  already  established  fanaticism  and 
ripeness  for  the  folly,  subtly  introduced  and  finally 
fastened  upon  them  that  curse  of  superstitious  igno 
rance,  which  was  doomed  to  become  such  a  blot  upon 
their  page  of  history — the  "  detection  "  of  and  perse 
cutions  for  witchcraft. 


,• 


CHAPTER  XL. 

GOLDEN  OYSTERS. 

CAPTAIN  WILLIAM  PHIPPS,  when  Adam  left  him  at 
Jamaica,  had  returned,  as  he  had  said  he  intended,  to 
the  waters  wherein  the  old  Spanish  galleon,  with  her 
golden  treasure,  was  supposed  to  have  sunk.  He  had 
met  with  a  small  measure  of  luck,  for  an  old  sailor  had 
pointed  out  what  he  alleged  to  be  the  exact  reef  of 
rocks  on  which  the  galleon  had  split,  half  a  century  be 
fore.  This  spot  was  a  few  leagues  to  the  north  of  Port 
de  la  Plata. 

Having  examined  the  place  without  success,  Phipps 
had  then  discovered  that  his  crew  was  not  reliable  and 
the  ship  not  much  better,  in  point  of  soundness.  He 
had  therefore  headed  for  England,  coming  in  due  season 
to  anchor  in  the  Thames. 

Undaunted  by  the  failure  which  his  enterprise  had 
been,  he  sought  out  the  King,  reported  what  he  had 
done,  and  requested  the  use  of  another  ship  and  a  better 
lot  of  men. 

James  was  amused  and  entertained.  He  commended 
the  bold  skipper  on  his  courage  and  his  tenacity  of  pur 
pose  ;  he  believed  his  story.  But  he  shook  his  head 
at  the  thought  of  furnishing  funds  and  a  new  ship  and 
crew  for  further  adventures  with  pirates  and  mutineers 
in  the  Spanish.  Main. 


Golden  Oysters.  315 

However,  at  the  Court,  Captain  Phipps  had  made 
influential  friends.  He  was  admired  for  his  manly 
qualities  ;  he  was  trusted  as  a  man  of  exceptional  integ 
rity.  The  Duke  of  Albemarle,  with  several  friends, 
agreed  again  to  back  the  doughty  Captain  for  the  ven 
ture.  They  secured  a  new  charter  for  the  business 
from  the  King  ;  they  found  a  good  staunch  ship. 
Away  went  Phipps,  with  a  hope  so  high  that  nothing 
could  have  served  to  suppress  it. 

It  was  when  the  captain  arrived  once  more  at  Port 
de  la  Plata  that  Adam  Rust  and  the  beef-eaters  joined 
him.  The  meeting  was  one  in  which  the  demonstration 
of  a  great  and  enduring  affection  between  the  two  big 
men  was  the  more  affecting  because  of  its  utter  sim 
plicity  and  quietness.  Adam  was  welcomed  to  his 
share  in  the  new  promise  with  that  great  spirit  of  gen 
erosity  and  justice  which  characterized  everything  that 
Phipps  was  ever  known  to  do. 

The  preparations  for  a  careful  search  were  pushed 
ahead  rapidly.  A  small,  stout  boat  was  built  and 
launched,  near  the  fatal  reef,  while  the  ship  was  anchored 
at  some  distance  away,  in  less  treacherous  water. 

Daily  the  small  boat  put  forth  and  the  reef  was  ex 
amined,  but  to  no  avail.  It  was  found  that  the  shelf 
of  rock,  which  had  broken  the  old  galleon,  ended  so 
abruptly  as  to  form  a  sheer  drop  of  many  fathoms, 
whereas  a  few  feet  away  it  was  only  a  ship's-hold  dis 
tance  from  the  surface.  It  was  conjectured  then  that 
the  galleon  had  struck,  had  filled  with  water  and  so  had 
fallen  over  the  edge  of  the  submerged  precipice, 
where  she  would  lay  forever,  undisturbed  by  prodding 
man. 


316  Hearts  of  Grace 

The  search  was  at  length  abandoned  as  being  futile. 
The  small  boat,  being  slowly  rowed  away,  Adam  beheld 
a  plant,  of  many  colors  and  rare  beauty,  growing  on 
the  reef  below  them,  in  the  clear,  emerald  water.  He 
requested  a  diver  to  fetch  it  up.  The  boat  was  halted 
and  overboard  went  the  man.  He  was  soon  seen 
spraddling  like  some  singular  creature,  back  up  through 
the  brine.  He  had  fetched  the  plant  and  he  told  of 
having  seen  on  the  bottom  the  encrusted  gun  of  some 
sunken  vessel. 

At  Adam's  eager  command  he  returned  again  to  the 
spot  and  presently  arose  to  the  surface  with  an  ingot  of 
silver,  slimy  and  dark,  clutched  firmly  in  his  hands. 
The  treasure  was  found  ! 

Putting  for  the  ship  at  once,  where  Captain  Phipps 
was  somewhat  laboriously  writing  a  long  report  of  the 
second  failure,  the  rover  gave  the  almost  incredible 
news,  that  set  the  whole  ship  afire  with  amazement 
and  joy. 

The  entire  crew  were  speedily  pressed  into  service. 
The  work  was  prosecuted  with  vigor.  Adam  looked 
upon  this  treasure,  coming  so  late  into  his  sight  and 
life,  with  a  grim  smile  upon  his  lips  and  with  scorn  in 
his  eyes.  He  saw  the  divers  fetch  up  masses  of  bullion, 
first,  then  golden  oysters,  encrusted  with  calcareous 
matter,  then  broken  bags  bursting  with  their  largess  of 
Spanish  doubloons,  and  finally  precious  stones,  shim 
mering,  untarnished,  in  the  sunlight. 

It  was  a  feverish  time.  Day  after  day  went  by  and 
the  boats  were  filled  with  fortunes.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  more  they  took,  the  more  they  found.  The  gold 
on  top  hid  gold  underneath. 


Golden  Oysters.  317 

An  old  shipmate  of  Captain  Phipps'  whose  im 
agination  the  ship-builder  had  fired,  months  before, 
arrived  from  Providence.  He  was  able  so  easily  to  fill 
his  boat  with  gold  that  he  went  raving  crazy  and  died 
in  a  lunatic  asylum  at  Bermuda. 

The  provisions  on  the  ship  began  to  run  low,  before 
the  examination  of  the  sunken  wreck  was  complete. 
Moreover  the  sailors,  their  avariciousness  aroused  by 
the  sight  of  all  these  riches,  which  daily  they  were 
snatching  from  the  sea,  for  other  men  to  enjoy,  grew 
restive  and  threatened  to  take  a  contagion  of  mutiny. 

Treasure  to  the  value  of  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds  had  been  recovered,  and  much  still  remained 
untouched.  Phipps  determined  to  sail  with  what  he 
had,  planning  to  return  to  the  field  in  the  future.  He 
enjoined  silence  and  secrecy  on  all  the  sailors,  but  the 
word  leaked  out  and  adventurers  gathering  from  far 
and  near,  the  rotting  galleon  was  despoiled  of  every 
thing  she  had  hoarded  so  jealously  and  successfully 
throughout  the  years. 

Phipps  brought  his  vessel  in  safety  to  England.  The 
enormous  success  which  had  attended  his  efforts  so 
aroused  the  cupidity  of  certain  of  the  King's  retainers 
that  they  advised  James  to  confiscate  the  entire  treas 
ure,  on  the  ground  that  Phipps  had  withheld  such 
information,  on  his  former  return,  as  would  have  in 
duced  the  crown  to  finance  the  second  enterprise,  had 
the  truth  been  told. 

King  James,  however,  was  too  honorable  a  monarch 
to  resort  to  trickery  so  infamous.  Instead  he  com 
mended  the  captain  in  the  highest  terms,  made  him 
an  intimate  of  his  court,  knighted  him  Sir  William 


3i8  Hearts  of  Grace 

Phipps  and  invited  him  to  become  an  Englishman  and 
reside  with  them  there  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

Phipps  received  his  honors  modestly.  He  was  too 
patriotic  to  desert  America  and  bluntly  said  so  to  his 
King.  He  and  Adam  received,  as  their  share  of  the 
treasure,  the  one  tenth  agreed  upon,  amounting  to 
thirty  thousand  pounds,  of  which  sum  all  that  the 
Captain  could  prevail  upon  Rust  to  accept  was  a  third, 
a  sum,  the  rover  said,  far  in  excess  of  the  needs  of  his 
retinue  and  himself. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 
FATE'S  DEVIOUS  WAYS. 

AT  Boston  it  was  not  a  matter  of  many  months  before 
Henry  Wains  worth  and  piety  Tootbaker,  having  been 
made  aware  that  Garde  was  no  longer  provisionally  be 
trothed  to  Randolph,  resumed  their  former  hopes  and 
attentions,  as  to  attending  Meeting  and  paying  sundry 
little  visits  to  the  Soams,  when  Garde  could  be  expected 
to  be  seen. 

Garde  had  become  a  subdued  little  person,  wishing 
only  that  she  might  not  be  seen  by  any  one  as  she  came 
and  went  on  her  simple  rounds  of  daily  life.  Her 
grandfather  had  recovered  so  that  once  more  he  poth 
ered  about  in  his  garden  and  read  in  his  Bible  and 
busied  himself  with  prattle,  more  childish  than  wise. 

The  old  man  saw  little  of  his  compatriots.  He  lived 
as  one  only  partially  awake  from  a  recent  dread.  He 
never  discussed  the  colony's  politics,  for  his  friends, 
when  they  came  to  see  him,  spared  him  the  ordeal 
which  invariably  resulted  from  a  mention  of  the  word 
charter.  On  this  topic  he  was  quite  mad.  Almost 
galvanically,  the  word  produced  in  his  brain  a  mania, 
half  fear,  half  fury,  in  which  he  seemed  to  conceive 
that  Garde  was  the  author  of  woes  to  which  nothing 
could  ever  give  expression.  In  such  a  mood,  he  was 
savagery  itself,  toward  the  patient  girl. 

319 


320  Hearts  of  Grace  j 

Gradually,  so  gradually  that  she  could  not  have  said 
when  the  impression  commenced  to  grow  upon  her,  Garde 
discovered  that  Henry  Wainsworth  was  exceedingly 
kind,  thoughtful  and  soothing,  in  her  joyless  existence. 
There  was  something  kindred  in  his  own  isolation,  and  in 
his  very  bashfulness,  or  timidity,  for  it  kept  him  so  often 
silent,  when  he  was  with  her  alone.  She  had  always  re 
spected  Henry.  His  patient  devotion  could  not  but  touch 
her  at  length.  It  was  not  so  much  a  flattery  as  it  was  a 
faithfulness,  through  all  the  discouragements  she  had 
given  him  always. 

This  line  of  thought  having  been  awakened  in  her 
breast,  she  noted  more  of  the  little,  insignificant  signs 
which  go  to  make  up  the  sum  of  a  man's  real  regard — 
the  regard  on  which  a  woman  can  safely  rely  as  one  to 
endure  and  to  grow. 

In  the  soreness  of  her  heart,  it  was  almost  sweet  to 
think  of  Henry's  quiet  attentions.  It  was  calming. 
It  lent  a  little  spot  of  warmth  and  color  to  her  other 
wise  cheerless  life.  She  could  never  love  him,  as  she 
had  loved  Adam — nay,  as  she  loved  him  still, — but  the 
dreariness  of  her  present  days  might  find  relief  in  a  new 
sort  of  life.  Out  of  the  duties,  which  as  a  housewife 
she  would  experience  daily,  surely  a  trust,  an  esteem 
for  Henry,  great  enough  almost  to  be  called  a  love, 
would  come,  with  the  years. 

She  yearned  to  bury  her  sorrow.  It  was  not  a  healthy, 
wholesome  thing  for  any  young  woman  to  foster.  She 
had  enjoyed  her  day  of  love,  yes — her  years  of  love. 
She  had  felt  like  a  widowed  bride.  To  her,  Adam's 
kisses  had  been  like  the  first  sacred  emblems  of  their 
marriage.  She  had  not  been  able  to  conceive  of  permit- 


Fate's  Devious  Ways.  321 

ting  such  caresses  until  she  should  feel  that  their  souls 
were  mated  and  their  hearts  already  wedded.  But  it 
could  never  be  the  duty  of  a  woman  to  mourn  such  a  loss 
till  she  died.  And  then — this  newly  contemplated 
union  would  make  her  forget. 

But,  if  she  could  encourage  Henry  toward  this  pos 
sibility  of  a  union  such  as  she  thought  upon,  it  would 
be  her  duty  to  be  more  cheerful,  more  living  in  the 
every-day  hours  that  were,  instead  of  dreaming  sadly 
and  morbidly  upon  her  heart-break  of  the  past. 

It  was  not  with  a  sense  of  gratifying  her  own  longing 
for  happiness  that  she  finally  thought  a  marriage  with 
Henry  possible ;  there  was  a  sense  of  combating  her 
own  selfishness  in  it.  It  was  a  selfishness,  it  was  pam 
pering  the  morbid  in  her  nature,  she  felt,  to  continue 
indefinitely  in  a  "widowhood"  of  Adam's  love.  It 
must  also  be  admitted  that  Garde  was  human,  where 
fore  the  element  of  pique  was  not  absolutely  lacking  in 
her  being.  No  woman  would  ever  wish  a  man  she  had 
rejected  to  believe  that  she  could  not,  or  would  not, 
marry  elsewhere.  She  would  wish  to  show  that  other 
opportunities  were  not  lacking,  as  well  as  she  would 
desire  to  have  him  know  that  her  heart  was  not  broken 
beyond  repair. 

Having  spent  at  least  a  month  upon  these  introspec 
tive  and  other  meditations,  Garde  appeared  to  Wains- 
worth  so  much  more  bright  and  beautiful  that  there 
was  no  containing  his  emotions.  The  poor  fellow  nearly 
broke  his  neck,  metaphorically  speaking,  in  a  vain  at 
tempt  to  ask  her  to  become  his  wife,  on  the  first  occasion 
afforded,  after  he  made  his  discovery  of  her  alteration 
in  moods  and  appearance. 
20 


322  Hearts  of  Grace 

It  was  of  no  use  to  screw  up  his  courage.  It  would 
not  stick.  He  determined  to  write  what  he  could  not 
utter,  and  then,  when  a  moment  should  be  propitious, 
to  deliver  his  written  declaration  into  her  hand,  to  be 
read  when  he  had  fled  the  scene.  To  this  end  he  com 
posed  an  elegant  and  eloquent  epistle. 

To  avoid  any  possibility  of  making  mistakes,  Henry 
carefully  deposited  his  letter  in  the  pocket  of  the  coat 
he  always  wore  to  Meeting.  This  pocket  had  been  here 
tofore  employed  as  a  receptacle  for  things  precious 
over  which  he  desired  to  exercise  particular  care. 

Having  without  difficulty  obtained  permission  from 
Garde  to  walk  at  her  side  to  church  and  back,  poor 
Wainsworth  lost  appetite  and  sleep,  while  waiting  for 
the  fateful  day.  When  it  came,  he  was  in  a  nervous 
plight  which  revealed  to  Garde  the  whole  state  of  his 
mind.  She  felt  her  sympathy  for  him  expand  in  her 
bosom  till  she  hoped  it  would  burgeon  into  love.  Had 
he  gone  with  her  into  her  aunt  Gertrude's  home,  after 
the  service,  Garde  would  doubtless  have  helped  to  sim 
plify  what  she  was  well  aware  he  wished  to  say,  but,  alas 
for  the  timid  lover,  he  dared  not,  on  this  occasion,  so 
jeopardize  his  courage. 

He  knew  that  if  ever  he  got  inside  the  house  and 
faced  her,  alone,  he  would  not  be  able  even  to  deliver 
his  letter.  But  out  of  doors  his  nerve  was  steadier. 
Therefore,  at  the  gate  having  fortified  himself  against 
the  moment,  he  nervously  drew  from  his  pocket  a  good- 
sized  packet  of  paper  and  put  it  shakingly  into  her  hand. 

"  I  wish— I  wish  you  would  read — this  letter,"  he 
stammered.  "  Good-by.  I — I  hope  you  will  read  it 
quite  through." 


Fate's  Devious  Ways.  323 

Garde  looked  at  him  compassionately.  He  was  only 
made  the  more  confused.  He  bowed  himself  away  with 
a  nervousness  painful  to  see. 

"  Poor  Henry  ! "  said  Garde,  with  a  little  smile  to  her 
self.  She  knew  what  to  expect  in  the  document  and 
vaguely  she  wondered  if  she  would  not  feel  more  at 
peace  when  she  had  consented  to  become  his  wife. 
Her  memory  of  words  and  looks,  behind  which  the 
figure  of  Adam,  the  sad  boy-captive,  the  love-irradiated 
champion  of  her  cat,  and  then  the  melancholy  violinist 
in  the  woods — this  had  all,  of  late,  been  more  than 
usually  strong  upon  her. 

Garde's  cat  had  died  within  the  week  just  passed. 
This  event  had  served  to  open  up  old  tombs,  containing 
her  dead  dreams.  She  had  almost  caught  herself  wish 
ing  she  had  taken  less  to  heart  the  story  of  Adam's 
perfidy,  or  at  least  that  she  might  never  have  heard  the 
story  at  all.  But  when  she  had  shaken  off  the  spell 
which  this  past  would  persist  in  weaving  about  her,  she 
was  resolved  to  accept  Henry  Wainsworth,  so  that  her 
duty  might  compel  her  to  forget. 

"With  a  half  melancholy  sense  of  sealing  her  own  sen 
tence  of  banishment  from  her  land  of  bitter-sweet  mem 
ories,  she  delayed  the  moment  of  unfolding  Henry's 
letter.  When  she  found  herself  alone,  she  laid  it  down 
before  her,  on  the  table,  and  looked  at  it  with  lack 
luster  eyes.  But  presently,  then,  having  tossed  off  the 
reverie  which  was  stealing  upon  her,  she  sighed  once, 
heavily,  and  took  up  the  papers  with  a  resolute  hand. 

She  opened  the  stiff  sheets  and  bent  them  straight. 
She  read  "  Dear  friend,"  and  thought  Henry's  writing 
had  altered.  Her  eyes  then  sped  along  a  number  of 


324  Hearts  of  Grace 

lines  and  she  started  with  a  new,  tense  interest  in  the 
document. 

The  letter  she  held  in  her  hands  was  the  one  which 
Adam  Rust  had  penned  to  Wainsworth,  concerning  his 
brother. 

"  Why  !  "  she  presently  said,  aloud,  "  why — he 
couldn't  have  meant —  "  yet  Henry,  she  recalled,  had 
asked  her  particularly  to  read  all  the  pages  through. 

She  had  only  made  a  start  into  Adam's  narrative,  yet 
her  heart  had  begun  to  leap  till  she  could  barely  endure 
its  commotion.  She  spread  the  sheets  out  before  her 
on  the  table,  with  nervous  fingers.  She  read  swiftly, 
greedily.  Her  bosom  heaved  with  the  tumult  of  sud 
denly  stirred  emotions.  She  made  a  glad  little  noise, 
as  she  read,  for  the  undercurrent  of  her  thought  was 
of  a  wild  exultation  to  find  that  Adam  was  innocent, 
that  she  was  justified  in  loving  him  now,  as  she  had  been 
justified  always — that  her  instinct  had  guided  her 
rightly  when  she  had  helped  him  to  break  from  the 
prison. 

Her  eyes  were  widely  dilated.  Her  pent-up  emotions 
swayed  her  till  she  suddenly  clutched  up  the  sheets  and 
crumpled  them  in  joy  against  her  bounding  heart. 

"  Adam  ! "  she  said,  half  aloud.  ' '  Oh,  Adam  !  My 
Adam  1 " 

She  bent  above  the  letter  again,  crooning  involunta 
rily,  in  the  revelation  of  Adam  made  again  his  noble  self 
by  the  lines  he  had  written  so  simply  and  innocently 
here  upon  the  paper.  She  was  reading,  but  having, 
almost  in  the  first  few  lines  discovered  so  much  that 
her  intuition  had  far  out-raced  her  eyes,  she  was  hardly 
comprehending  the  sentences  that  ran  so  swiftly  be- 


Fate's  Devious  Ways.  325 

neath  her  gaze,  so  abandoned  were  her  senses  to  the 
sudden  hope  and  the  overwhelming  joy  which  the  rev 
elation  compelled.  She  kissed  the  papers.  She  laid 
her  cheek  upon  them,  she  surrounded  them  warmly 
with  her  arms. 

She  felt  so  glad  that  she  had  loved  him  in  spite  of  that 
horrible  story  !  Her  soul  leaped  with  exultation.  She 
would  not  be  obliged  to  marry  Wainsworth,  to  forget. 
She  would  never  forget  !  She  would  wait  for  Adam 
now — if  need  be  till  Judgment  Day  itself  ! 

She  kissed  Adam's  writing  again.  She  fondled  it 
lovingly.  It  restored  him.  It  gave  her  back  her  right 
to  love  him.  It  was  too  much  to  think  upon  or  to  try 
to  express. 

She  had  only  half  read  it ;  the  sense  of  the  story  had 
escaped  her  grasp.  It  had  been  enough  that  Adam  was 
guiltless.  Her  breath  came  fast ;  the  color  had  flamed 
to  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes  were  glowing  with  the  love 
•which  she  had  welcomed  home  to  her  throbbing 
heart. 

She  had  risen,  unable  to  control  herself,  so  abruptly 
and  unexpectedly  had  the  discovery  come  upon  her. 
Now  she  sat  down  again  at  the  table  and  read  the  letter 
more  carefully.  It  was  such  a  sad  little  story. 

"Unfortunately  I  sprained  my  ankle,  and  this  de 
layed  me,"  she  read,  where  Adam  had  written.  She 
pictured  him  now,  limping  through  the  forest,  with  the 
little  brown  child,  and  her  heart  yearned  over  his  suffer 
ing,  his  patience  and  his  self-sacrifice  in  coming  back  to 
the  cruel  fate  in  store  for  him,  there  in  Boston. 

She  thought  of  him  then  in  the  prison.  She  blessed 
the  instinct  of  love  which  had  made  her  go  to  his  aid. 


326  Hearts  of  Grace 

He  was  not  an  outlaw.  He  was  not  a  renegade.  He 
was  her  own  Adam. 

Then  she  thought  of  the  moment  in  which  she  had 
sent  him  away.  After  all  the  heart-breaking  trials  he 
had  already  endured,  she  had  added  the  final  cruelty. 
She  remembered  how  he  had  limped,  when  she  saw  him 
starting  off,  just  before  she  had  fainted  at  the  window, 
that  terrible  night.  Longing  to  call  him  back,  now,  and 
to  cry  out  her  love, — that  had  never  died, — her  trust, 
which  should  now  endure  for  ever,  and  her  plea  to  be  for 
given,  she  fancied  she  heard  him  again  saying :  ' '  Garde  ! 
Garde  ! — not  forever  ?  "  and  she  felt  a  great  sob  rising  in 
her  throat. 

"  Oh,  Adam  ! "  she  said,  as  if  from  the  depths  of  her 
heart. 

The  hot  tears,  of  joy  and  sadness  blended,  suddenly 
gave  vent  to  the  pent-up  emotions  within  her.  They 
rolled  swiftly  down  across  her  face  and  splashed  in  great 
blots  on  the  writing. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

LITTLE  RUSES,  AND  WAITING. 

WHEN  she  had  recovered  somewhat  of  her  calm  again, 
Garde  found  herself  confronted  by  several  difficulties 
with  which  she  would  be  obliged  to  cope.  In  the  first 
place  she  had  ruined  Adam's  letter  to  Henry  Wains- 
worth,  crumpling  the  sheets  and  permitting  her  tears  to 
fall  upon  their  surfaces,  till  no  one  save  herself,  aided 
by  love,  could  have  deciphered  some  of  the  sentences 
at  all. 

In  the  second  place,  if  Henry  had  really  intended  to 
ask  her  hand  in  marriage,  as  she  could  not  avoid  be 
lieving,  there  might  be  complications  in  that  direction 
at  an  early  date.  She  could  only  resolve,  upon  this 
point,  that  she  must  not,  under  any  circumstances,  per 
mit  Henry  to  make  his  proposal,  either  orally  or  through 
the  medium  of  another  letter. 

As  to  this  letter,  from  Adam  to  Henry,  it  was  certainly 
of  a  private  character,  but  Henry  had  asked  her  to  read 
it,  and  now  she  could  not  have  disguised  the  fact  that 
she  had  done  so.  She  could  not  see  how  she  could  pos 
sibly  return  it  to  Henry  at  all,  under  the  circumstances. 
She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  letting  him  see  the  evi 
dence  of  her  emotions,  wrought  upon  it.  Moreover, 
it  was  precious  to  her.  She  felt  entitled  to  own  it.  To 
her  it  meant  far  more  than  it  possibly  could  to  any  other 

327 


328  Hearts  of  Grace 

person  in  the  world.  She  resolved  to  make  a  fair  copy 
of  it,  for  Henry,  while  she  herself  would  retain  the 
original — in  Adam's  own  writing. 

Her  third  proposition  was  the  most  vital  of  them  all. 
She  could  not  think  of  what  she  should  do  to  repair  the 
harm  which  she  alone,  after  all,  had  done,  when  she 
sent  Adam  away  with  that  little  word  "Forever!" 
How  should  she  let  him  know  of  the  infamous  story 
which  she  had  been  made  to  believe  ?  How  should  she 
convince  him,  even  supposing  she  could  reach  him  with 
a  word,  that  the  story  had  left  no  room  in  her  mind  for 
doubt  of  its  truth  ?  How  could  she  manage  to  persuade 
him  that  she  had  loved  him  always  ;  that  she  knew  at 
last  of  the  wrong  she  had  done  him  ;  that  she  begged 
his  forgiveness  ;  that  she  should  wait  for  him  even  longer 
than  the  fifty  years  of  which  he  had  spoken  on  that  last 
agonizing  night  ? 

He  might  not  forgive  her,  she  told  herself.  It  might 
be  too  late  already.  She  knew  not  where  he  had  gone, 
or  what  he  had  done.  He  too  might  have  thought  of 
marriage  with  somebody  else — to  try  to  forget. 

As  a  result  of  her  brain  cudgeling,  to  know  what  she 
would  do  to  make  Adam  aware  that  she  had  made  a 
great  mistake  and  desired  his  forgiveness,  she  deter 
mined  to  write  him  a  letter.  Having  decided,  she  wrote 
at  once.  Had  she  waited  a  little  longer,  her  letter 
might  have  been  more  quiet  in  its  reserve,  but  it  could 
not  then  have  been  so  utterly  spontaneous,  nor  expres 
sive  of  the  great  love  she  bore  him,  kept  alive  during 
all  those  months  of  doubt  and  agony. 

As  it  was,  the  little  outburst  was  sufficiently  dignified  ; 
and  it  was  sweet,  and  frank.  She  told  him  that  she  had 


Little  Ruses,  and  Waiting.  329 

read  his  letter  to  Henry,  and  that  suddenly  she  had 
known  of  the  great  wrong  she  had  done  him.  She 
mentioned  that  a  dreadful  story  had  been  fastened  upon 
him,  with  all  too  terrible  semblances  of  truth  and  jus 
tice.  She  begged  his  forgiveness  in  a  hundred  runes. 
Finally,  when  she  had  finished,  she  signed  it  "  Garde — 
John  Kosella,"  in  memory  of  her  walk  with  him  through 
the  woods,  from  near  Plymouth  to  Boston. 

Not  without  blushes  and  little  involuntary  thrills  of 
delight  did  she  add  the  name  which  confessed  the  tale 
of  that  wonderful  walk,  but  she  felt  that  Adam  would 
know,  by  this  very  confession,  how  deep  for  him  must 
be  her  love  and  trust  and  how  contrite  was  the  spirit  in 
which  she  desired  his  forgiveness. 

This  epistle  having  at  length  been  disposed  of  to  her 
satisfaction,  she  made  the  fair  copy  of  Adam's  letter  to 
Henry  and  sent  it  to  Wainsworth  at  once,  with  a  short 
note  of  explanation  that  some  moisture  having  fallen 
upon  the  original,  making  it  quite  illegible  and  indeed 
destroying  it  utterly,  for  his  use,  she  felt  she  could  do 
no  less  than  to  make  this  reparation.  She  likewise  ex 
pressed  the  compliment  she  felt  it  was  to  herself  that 
Henry  had  desired  her  to  know  of  this  sad  affair  in  the 
life  of  his  brother,  but  that  she  had  been  so  affected  by 
the  tale  that  she  must  beg  him  not  to  permit  her  to 
read  any  further  letters  for  some  time  to  come. 

This  was  a  masterly  composition,  for  poor  Wainsworth 
destroyed  the  proposing  epistle  he  had  written  at  such 
infinite  pains,  and  for  a  time  wholly  abandoned  any 
thought  of  speaking  of  marriage.  He  was  exceedingly 
mortified  to  think  he  had  made  such  a  blunder  as  to 
give  her  the  letter  which  he  had  guarded  so  cautiously. 


33°  Hearts  of  Grace 

Timidity  settled  upon  him,  especially  as  he  noted  an 
other,  altogether  incomprehensible  change  in  Garde's 
demeanor,  when  next  they  met. 

Having  despatched  her  letter  to  Adam,  Garde  felt  a 
happiness  grow  and  expand  in  her  bosom  daily.  She 
expected  the  wait  to  be  a  long  one,  till  a  letter,  or  some 
other  manner  of  a  reply,  could  come  from  Adam. 
Goodwife  Phipps,  of  whom  she  had  artfully  contrived 
to  get  the  rover's  address,  had  assured  her  of  the  very 
great  number  of  weeks  that  elapsed  between  communi 
cations  from  William,  in  answer  to  the  fond  little  flock 
of  letters  which  she  was  constantly  launching  forth  to 
the  distant  island  across  the  sea.  But  when  weeks  be 
came  months,  and  time  fled  onward  inexorably,  with 
never  a  sign  or  a  word  in  return  for  what  she  had  writ 
ten,  she  had  many  moments  in  which  sad,  vain  regrets 
and  confirmed  despair  took  possession  of  her  thoughts. 

She  was  a  resigned,  patient  girl,  however,  with  her 
impulses  curbed,  for  the  sadness  of  the  times,  aside 
from  her  own  little  affairs,  cast  a  gloom  upon  the  colony 
which  seemed  to  deepen  rather  than  to  promise  ever  to 
dissolve. 

Her  heart  felt  that  the  fifty  years  had  passed  many 
times  over  her  head,  when,  after  a  longer  time  than 
Mrs.  Phipps  had  mentioned  as  sufficient  to  bring  even 
a  delayed  reply  had  passed,  and  nothing  had  come  from 
Adam  Kust.  Garde  watched  for  the  ships  to  come,  one 
by  one,  her  hopes  rising  always  as  the  white  sails  ap 
peared,  and  then  falling  invariably,  when  no  small 
messenger  came  to  her  hand.  She  lived  from  ship  to 
ship,  and  sent  her  own  little  argosies  of  thought  travel 
ing  wistfully  across  the  seas,  hoping  they  might  come 


Little  Ruses,  and  Waiting.  331 

to  harbor  in  Adam's  heart  at  last  and  so  convey  to  him 
her  yearning  to  hear  just  a  word,  or  to  see  him  just 
once  again. 

In  the  meantime,  she  could  not  endure  the  thought 
that  either  Henry  Wainsworth  or  Piety  Tootbaker 
should  even  so  much  as  think  of  her  as  if  they  stood  in 
Adam's  place.  She  therefore  went  to  work  with  all  her 
maidenly  arts,  to  render  such  a  situation  impossible,  in 
the  case  of  either  of  the  would-be  suitors. 

Thus  she  contrived  to  tell  the  faithful  Henry  that 
Prudence  Soam  was  very  fond  of  him  indeed.  For  this 
she  had  a  ground  work  of  fact.  She  then  conveyed  to 
Prudence  the  intelligence  that  Henry  was  thinking  up 
on  her  most  fondly.  This  also  began  soon  to  be  true 
enough,  for  Henry  had  been  flattered,  not  a  little,  by 
the  news  he  heard  and  did  look  at  Prudence  with  a  new 
and  wondering  interest.  He  likewise  underwent  a  pro 
cess  of  added  intelligence  in  which  he  realized  that 
Garde  was  not  for  him,  howsoever  much  he  might  have 
dreamed,  or  would  be  able  to  dream  in  the  future.  It 
was  remarkable,  then,  how  soon  the  timid  Henry  and 
the  diffident  Prudence  began  to  understand  one 
another.  Prudence,  who  had  never  had  a  sweetheart 
before,  blossomed  out  with  pretty  little  ways  and  with 
catching  blushes  and  looks  of  brightness  in  her  eyes 
that  made  her  a  revelation,  not  only  to  Henry  but  to 
Garde  herself.  And  Henry  became  really  happy  and 
almost  bold. 

For  Piety,  alas,  there  was  no  Prudence  available. 
Garde  racked  her  brains  for  a  plan  to  fit  the  case  of 
Tootbaker's  state  of  mind.  At  length,  when  John 
Soam  began  to  talk  to  his  wife  about  the  colony  pa- 


33  2  Hearts  of  Grace 

triots  again  desiring  that  money  which  had  never  been 
used  to  send  David  Donuer  abroad,  for  the  purpose  of 
sending  somebody  else,  in  the  spring,  Garde  knew  ex 
actly  what  to  do. 

She  would  manage  to  send  Piety  Tootbaker  away  to 
England.  She  went  to  work  in  this  direction  without 
delay.  Her  success  was  not  a  thing  of  sudden  growth. 
It  took  no  little  time  and  persuasion  to  fire  Piety  with 
an  ambition  to  serve  his  country  by  going  so  far  from 
his  comfortable  home  and  his  equally  comfortable 
wooing,  in  which  he  believed  he  was  making  actual 
progress. 

For  their  agent  extraordinary,  to  plead  their  cause 
at  the  Court  of  King  James,  the  colonists  selected 
Increase  Mather,  a  man  at  once  astute,  agreeable  and 
afflicted  with  religious  convictions  which  had  every  bar 
nacle  of  susperstition  that  ever  lived,  attached  upon 
them.  Piety  Tootbaker  was  to  go  as  his  clerk  and 
secretary. 

The  preparations  for  sending  Mather  abroad  were 
conducted  with  no  small  degree  of  secrecy.  Neverthe 
less  Edward  Kandolph  became  aware  of  what  was  being 
contemplated,  for  his  hypocritical  Puritan  agents  were 
everywhere  and  in  all  affairs  of  state,  or  even  of  private 
business. 

Permitting  the  scheme  to  ripen,  Eandolph  waited 
until  almost  the  moment  for  Mather's  sailing.  He  then 
swooped  down  upon  the  enterprise  and  attempted  to 
arrest  Mather,  on  the  process  of  some  sham  prosecution. 
The  patriots,  incensed  almost  to  the  point  of  rebellion, 
played  canning  for  cunning.  They  delayed  the  de 
parture  of  the  ship,  the  captain  of  which  was  a  staunch 


Little  Ruses,  and  Waiting.  333 

"  American,"  and  then  hustled  Mather  aboard  under 
cover  of  darkness,  and  so  sent  him  off  on  his  mission. 

For  a  week  after  Piety  had  gone,  Garde  felt  such  a 
sense  of  relief  that  she  almost  persuaded  herself  she 
was  happy  in  her  long  wait  for  Adam,  or  for  a  word 
which  might  finally  come.  But  the  months  again 
began  their  dreary  procession,  and  her  fear  that  Adam 
was  lost  to  her  forever  deepened  and  laid  its  burden 
more  and  more  upon  her  heart. 

Yet  there  came  a  day  when,  a  ship  having  arrived  in 
the  harbor,  and  her  hope  having  greeted  it  wistfully, 
only  to  flutter  back  to  her  own  patient  bosom  again,  a 
letter  did  actually  come  to  her  hand. 

It  was  not  particularly  neat ;  it  looked  as  if  it  might 
have  been  opened  before  it  came  to  her  possession,  but 
her  heart  bounded  wildly  when  she  saw  it,  and  her 
fingers  trembled  as  she  broke  it  open  to  read  its  con 
tents. 

Then  her  joy  vanished.  The  letter  was  from  Piety 
Tootbaker.  He  announced,  as  if  to  break  the  intelli 
gence  to  her  frankly,  that  the  voyage  had  made  him  so 
exceedingly  ill  that  he  had  determined  never  to  trust 
himself  upon  the  billows  again.  He  would  therefore 
reside  hereafter  in  England,  which  was  "  a  pleasing 
countrie  and  much  more  merrie  than  Boston." 

"  I  shall  never,  never  get  an  answer  to  my  letter," 
said  Garde  to  herself,  made  sadder  by  the  arrival  of 
Piety's  letter,  which  proved  that  letters  could  actually 
come  from  over  the  sea.  "  He  will  never,  never  reply, 
I  know." 

She  was  not  far  mistaken,  for  Adam  had  never  re 
ceived  her  letter.  It  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of 


334  Hearts  of  Grace 

Edward  Kandolph,  who  had  constituted  himself  censor 
of  communications  sent  abroad  from  Massachusetts. 
Malignantly  he  was  keeping  those  love-scented  sheets, 
against  the  day  of  his  vengeance. 


PART  III. 

CHAPTER  I. 

A  TOPIC  AT  COUET. 

IN  the  midst  of  a  gay  throng,  in  the  production  of 
which  the  Court  of  King  James  lagged  little,  if  any, 
behind  that  of  his  brother,  Charles,  Adam  Rust  and 
Captain  Phipps  were  prime  favorites.  Sir  William, 
who  had  adopted  a  cane,  gave  no  promise  that  he  would 
ever  be  at  home  with  the  disciples  of  the  minuet  and 
the  hunt,  while  Adam  seemed  a  very  part  of  the  social 
mechanism. 

Richly  dressed,  ready  with  his  wit  and  his  sword, 
handsome,  wealthy  enough  to  attract  the  soft  glances 
of  dames  of  all  ages  and  degrees,  he  was  a  puzzle  to  the 
blunt  captain,  who  had  marked  a  change  that  had  come 
upon  him  between  going  home  from  Jamaica  and  com 
ing  back  again  to  help  in  recovering  the  treasure. 

Whitehall  was  ablaze  with  light  and  warmth,  which 
were  reflected  from  myriad  sparkling  jewels  and  from 
rosy  cheeks.  The  King  had  disappointed  his  guests, 
nevertheless  they  were  not  at  a  loss  to  find  amusement. 
Ready  as  ever  to  entertain,  either  with  a  song  for  the 
ladies  or  a  duel  with  the  men,  Adam  was  pressed  for  a 

335 


336  Hearts  of  Grace 

roundel  to  fit  the  merry  hour.  He  had  found  a  glass 
which  responded  with  a  particularly  musical  tinkle  to 
the  tap  of  his  finger.  He  held  it  up  before  the  admir 
ing  company  and  rang  it  crisply.  Catching  the  key 
from  its  mellifluous  tintinnabulation  he  began  his  song  : 

"  Oh  your  jolliest  girl  is  your  cup  of  sack, 

Your  Mistress  Sack,  with  her  warm,  brown  eyes ; 
She'll  love  you,  and  never  she'll  turn  her  back, 
Nor  leave  you  a  thought 
In  her  meshes  uncaught, 
And  never  you'll  know  if  she  lies. 

"Then  it's  drink,  drink,  drink, 
And  you'll  never  have  need  to  think ; 

And  it's  fol  de  rol, 

And  who  has  use  for  a  brain  ? 
With  your  cup  that  loves  your  lip, 
You  need  fear  no  faithless  slip, 
And  your  heart  will  never  know  the  stabs  of  pain. 

"  Oh  your  languorous  maid  is  your  glass  of  wine, 

Your  Lady  Amour,  with  her  ruby  kiss. 
She  suffers  no  rivals,  or  thinking — in  fine, 
She  owns  all  your  soul 
And  she  takes  for  her  toll 
A  payment  in  dull-witted  bliss. 

"Then  drink,  drink,  drink,  etc. 

"  Oh,  your  mistress  for  faith  is  your  poison  cup, 

Your  poison  cup,  with  its  juice  of  death. 
She'll  hold  you,  ha !  ha  !  till  the  Doomsday's  up, 
In  her  passion's  embrace, 
And  so  close  to  her  face 
That  you'll  never  get  time  for  a  breath. 


A  Topic  at  Court.  337 

"  Then  it's  drink,  drink,  drink, 
And  you  never  of  love  need  think  ; 
And  it's  fol  de  rol, 
For  who  has  use  for  a  heart  ? 
With  a  cup  that  loves  your  lip, 
You  need  fear  no  faithless  slip, 
Nor  feel  the  pangs  of  any  pains  that  dart." 


Not  being  at  all  certain  that  they  knew  what  he 
meant,  the  company  applauded  with  great  enthu 
siasm. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,"  said  a  nobleman,  with  ahead  on 
him  hardly  bigger  nor  less  wrinkled  than  a  last  winter's 
apple,  and  a  stomach  as  big  as  a  tun,  "  you  have  not 
tasted  a  drink  to-night.  Demme,  look  at  me,  sir.  I 
love  my  sack  and  my  wine.  I  know  nothing  of  your 
poison  cup,  and  I  have  no  wish  to,  demme.  But,  sir,  I 
think  you  have  no  bowels  for  drinking." 

"  My  lord,  you  furnish  the  bowels  and  I  will  furnish 
the  brains  to  know  about  drinking,"  said  Adam.  "  By 
my  faith,  no  drink  ever  yet  went  to  your  head." 

"  No,  sir  !  I'm  proud  of  it,  demme,"  said  his  lord 
ship.  "  I  have  drunk  up  a  fortune,  and  where  is  it  ? — 
It's  gone." 

"  Distill  your  breath  and  get  it  back,"  suggested 
Kust. 

"  What's  that  ?  Demme,  you  are  laughing  at  me, 
sir." 

"  Never  ! "  said  Adam,  decisively.  "  Above  all  per 
sons  you  make  me  sober.  Breathe  toward  our  friend 
the  Viscount.  He  has  ever  wished  fortune  to  wing  in 
his  direction." 

"  The  Viscount  ?  Where  ?    Demme,  yes.     My  dear 

22 


338  Hearts  of  Grace 

old  chap,  how  are  you  ?  "  and  turning,  in  consequently, 
to  a  friend  whose  little  eyes  seemed  to  swim  around  in 
the  florid  sea  of  his  face,  his  lordship  was  deserted  by 
the  rover.  Sauntering  through  a  cluster  of  friends  who 
would  have  detained  him,  Adam  approached  a  window, 
where  he  sat  himself  down  on  a  miniature  divan. 

Here  he  had  but  a  second  to  himself,  for  while  some 
body  else  was  preparing  to  sing  to  the  company,  a 
beautiful  little  lady,  with  eyes  that  were  fairly  purple 
in  their  depths  of  blue,  came  and  took  the  seat  beside 
him. 

i  "Oh,  Mr.  Rust,"  she  said,  "what  a  strange  song 
that  was.  Why,  but  you  know  nothing  of  wine  and 
sack,  and  poison.  Oh,  why  did  you  say  poison  ?  That 
was  dreadful.  And  why  should  you  wish  never  to 
think  of  love  ?  What  has  poor  little  love  ever  done  to 
you?" 

"You  must  remember,  Lady  Violet,"  said  Adam, 
"  that  before  I  sang  I  had  not  seen  you,  to  speak  a 
word,  during  the  entire  evening." 

Lady  Violet  blushed.  "  That  hasn't  anything  to  do 
with  anything,"  she  said. 

Adam  replied  :  "  That  makes  me  equivalent  to 
nothing. " 

"  It  doesn't,"  the  lady  protested.  "  You  mix  me  all 
up.  I  don't  believe  you  know  anything  more  about 
love  than  you  do  about  drinking." 

"  Do  you  counsel  me  to  learn  of  these  arts  ?  " 

"No,  not  of  drinking — certainly  not,  Mr.  Rust." 

"If  we  eliminate  the  drinking,  that  only  leaves  the 
love." 
,     "  Oh,  but  I— I  didn't  say  that  I— I  don't  wish  to 


A  Topic  at  Court.  339 

counsel  yon  at  all.  You  twist  about  everything  I 
say." 

"  And  you  twist  about  every  man  you  meet,"  retorted 
Adam. 

"Oh,  I  do  not !  "  she  objected.  "  How  rude  you  are 
to  say  so.  I  don't  even  like  all  the  men  I  meet,  and  if 
I  did " 

"  You  mean,  then,  that  you  twist  only  the  ones  like 
myself,  that  you  like." 

"  I  don't  !  I You  make  me  say  things  I  don't 

want  to  say." 

"  Then  I  shall  make  you  say  that  you  love  me  des 
perately,"  said  Adam,  complacently. 

"  Mr.  Rust  !  "  she  gasped.     "  I— I— I " 

"  If  you  are  going  to  say  it  now,  let  me  know,"  Adam 
interrupted. 

She  was  blushing  furiously.  She  did  love  him,  just 
about  as  Rust  had  described,  but  he  had  never  guessed 
it  and  was  merely  toying  with  the  one  absorbing  and 
universal  topic  of  the  court. 

"  I — I  am  not  going  to  say  anything  of  the  kind  ! " 
she  stammered. 

"Then  that  proves  my  case,"  Adam  announced, 
judicially.  "  I  cannot  compel  you  to  say  anything  at 
all  that  is  not  already  at  the  point  of  your  tongue." 

"You — you  are  very  rude,"  she  said,  helplessly. 

"So  I  have  been  told  by  Lady  Margaret,"  Adam 
confessed.  "  Here  she  is  herself.  Lady  Margaret,  we 
are  having  quite  a  discussion.  Tell  us,  if  a  man  tries 
to  make  a  lady  say  she  loves  him  desperately,  is  he  nec 
essarily  rude  ?  " 

A  superb  young  widow,  who  was  gradually  emerging 


340  Hearts  of  Grace 

from  her  mourning  black,  and  who  had  come  to  the 
gathering  with  her  father,  halted  in  front  of  the  two 
on  the  small  divan  and  looked  them  over. 

"Dear  Lady  Violet/'  said  the  new  comer,  "your 
brother  and  Lord  Kilkrankie  are  looking  for  you  every 
where." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  so  much/'  said  the  confused  little 
lady,  and  without  waiting  for  anything  further  she 
jumped  up  and  fled  from  the  scene.  She  was  vexed  at 
and  distrustful  of  Lady  Margaret ;  but  she  could  not 
remain  and  give  her  battle. 

The  second  lady  took  Violet's  seat,  calmly.  "  What 
have  you  been  saying  of  love  to  that  little,  brainless 
child  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  haven't  been  making  love  to 
her,  surely  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Adam,  "  I  was  occupying  my  time 
till  you  should  come  along  and  make  love  to  me." 

"You  wretch/'  she  said,  with  perfect  calm.  "You 
wouldn't  know  love  if  you  saw  it." 

"  Is  it  so  rare  at  Court  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Perhaps  I 
should  spend  my  time  better  in  looking  at  you." 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  she  said.  "  But  tell  me,  what  is 
your  opinion,  really,  of  love." 

"  It  makes  a  poor  fare  for  dinner,  a  poor  coat  in 
the  winter,  and  a  poor  comfort  when  you  are  dead," 
said  Bust.  "  It  tricks  the  clever ;  it's  the  wandering 
Jew  of  emotions.  If  you  wish  me  to  do  you  an  injury, 
bid  me  to  love  you  forthwith." 

"  Where  have  you  learned,  that  you  speak  with  such 
wisdom  ?  "  said  Lady  Margaret.  "  Surely  not  such  a 
child  as  Violet " 

"You  do  yourself  an  injustice,"  Adam  interrupted. 


A  Topic  at  Court.  341 

"  Adam,"  she  said,  "  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  you 
say  to  all  the  women." 

"  And  which  of  your  friends  would  you  ask  me  to 
neglect?"  he  asked.  "A  woman's  judgment  is  the 
one  thing  I  lack." 

"  You  are  a  heartless  wretch  !  "  she  announced. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  a  wretch  of  a  thousand 
hearts,"  he  corrected.  "  How  long  would  you  continue 
to  love  me  if  I  had  any  less  ?  " 

"  Adam  !     I  don't  love  you,  and  you  know  it." 

"  That  leaves  a  vacancy  in  my  life  which  I  shall  fill 
at  once,"  he  told  her.  "  Wait— perhaps  I  can  catch 
the  eye  of  the  Countess." 

The  Countess  had  one  of  the  most  catchable  eyes 
imaginable.  She  came  up  immediately. 

'•Margaret  says  she  no  longer  loves  me,"  said  the  in 
corrigible  Rust,  "  I  shall  give  her  place  to  you." 


CHAPTER  II. 

ILLNESS    IN  THE  FAMILY. 

SICK  of  the  women,  to  all  of  whom  he  made  love, 
openly,  to  avoid  being  thought  serious  by  any ;  weary 
of  the  specious  show,  which  failed  to  bring  him  the 
forgetfulness  he  craved,  Adam  left  the  assemblage 
early  and  went  to  search  out  the  beef-eaters,  at  their 
humble  quarters. 

Improvidents  that  they  were,  Pike  and  Halberd  had 
soon  dispersed  the  not  inconsiderable  sum  of  money 
which  Adam  had  divided  between  them,  since  which 
time  he  had  provided  the  pair  with  their  lodgings,  keep, 
clothing  and  amusements. 

The  night  being  fine  and  the  air  soon  reviving  the 
rover's  livelier  moods  of  delight  in  sheer  existence,  he 
found  himself  loitering  along,  stopping  to  look  in  the 
windows  of  the  scattered  shops  still  open  for  the  tag- 
ends  of  the  day's  trading.  It  was  only  the  little  knick- 
knack  shops,  old  curio  dens  and  lesser  establishments 
that  still  had  their  lights  aglow,  but  it  happened  that 
these  were  the  particular  ones  in  which  Adam  took  an 
interest. 

He  stopped  before  one  of  the  dingiest  for  fifteen 

minutes,  carefully  scanning  a  considerable  collection 

of  violins  which  the  window  contained.     At  length  his 

eye  lighted,  he  muttered  something  half  exclamatory 

342 


Illness  in  the  Family.  343 

and  went  into  the  shop  at  once.  The  dealer  knew  him 
and  nodded  delightedly,  glad  to  have  him  again  in  his 
place,  as  he  had  fully  expected  when  he  placed  the 
rare  old  fiddle  which  Rust  had  seen,  in  his  window. 

Adam  bought  the  instrument  with  all  the  eagerness 
of  the  confirmed  connoisseur  and  went  his  way  con 
tented. 

When  he  came  to  the  tavern  where  the  beef-eaters 
made  their  abode,  he  found  little  Pike  dangerously  ill 
with  pleurisy  and  thinking  of  shuffling  off  forlornly 
into  his  next  existence. 

The  one  thing  which  alone  could  transform  Adam 
Rust  into  the  cheerful  fellow  he  had  been  before  his 
veneer  of  cynicism  came  upon  him,  was  illness  in  his 
family.  He  refused  to  let  his  beef-eaters  think  of  dying. 
They  were  his  tie  to  everything  he  still  held  dear. 

He  pulled  off  his  coat  and  went  to  work  on  Pike, 
whose  spirits  he  raised  with  songs,  raillery  and  cheer, 
and  whose  fever  he  lowered  with  teas  and  bitter  drinks, 
which  he  steeped  himself,  from  various  herbs  and  roots, 
the  specific  qualities  of  which  he  had  known  from  the 
Indians. 

The  Court  saw  no  more  of  the  reckless  Adam  for  a 
week.  At  the  end  of  this  time  he  had  coaxed  the  faith 
ful  Pike  to  something  like  his  former  health  again, 
when  he  announced  his  intention  of  going  to  Spain,  to 
add  to  his  growing  collection  of  violins.  He  therefore 
said  good-by  to  Sir  William  Phipps  and  went  off  with 
his  beef-eaters  both  in  charge. 

Having  learned  that  the  Pyrenees  afforded  splendid 
possibilities  for  building  up  depleted  health  and 
strength,  the  rover  domiciled  himself  and  companions 


344  Hearts  of  Grace 

in  a  spot  that  was  charmingly  lonely.  And  William 
Phipps,  when  Adam's  first  letter  arrived,  wondered 
vaguely  what  manner  of  violins  his  comrade  was  finding 
in  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  m. 

FOILED  PURPOSES. 

INCREASE  MATHER  met  with  a  dignified  and  polite 
reception  at  the  Court  of  the  King,  for  Sir  William 
Phipps,  with  all  his  influence  and  persuasiveness,  pre 
pared  the  way  for  the  envoy  extraordinary  to  approach 
the  master  of  the  colonies. 

Sir  William  even  constituted  himself  another  cham 
pion  of  downtrodden  Massachusetts,  and  added  his 
importunities  to  those  of  Mather,  to  induce  James  to 
re-establish  the  rights  and  territory  of  the  colony  and 
to  give  it  back  its  beloved  charter. 

"  We  love  you  much,  Sir  William,"  said  the  King, 
with  a  firmness  which  was  never  to  be  shaken,  "  but 
we  cannot  accede  to  your  wishes.  Anything  but  this 
that  you  will  ask  shall  be  granted." 

Disappointed,  but  never  disconcerted,  Sir  William 
conferred  with  Mather,  whom  he  was  obliged  to  assure 
that  nothing  that  either  of  them  could  say  to  him  now 
would  beget  an  alteration  of  King  James's  decision. 
Mather,  persistent,  suave  and  convinced  of  the  justice 
of  his  cause,  determined  to  remain  in  touch  with  the 
Court  and  the  King's  retainers,  until  sheer  patience 
and  persistence  should  win  what  persuasion  could  not. 

Phipps,  knowing  only  too  well  the  disposition  of  the 
King,  when  once  his  word  was  passed,  determined  that 

345 


346  Hearts  of  Grace 

he  could  do  more  for  his  country  if  present  in  the 
colony  than  he  could  by  remaining  in  London.  Re 
minding  the  King  that  he  had  already  granted  him  any 
other  favor  than  the  restoration  of  the  colony's  char 
ter,  he  announced  his  desire  to  be  appointed  Sheriff  of 
New  England. 

Regretting  to  lose  the  hearty  Captain  from  his  com 
pany,  James  nevertheless  kept  his  word  by  complying 
with  Sir  William's  request.  The  appointment  was  duly 
made  and  confirmed.  Leaving  Mather  behind  him, 
Phipps  returned  to  Boston  and  set  about  the  ad 
ministration  of  his  new-made  duties,  with  more  ardor 
than  cunning,  with  more  honesty  than  diplomacy. 

It  is  doubtful  if  William  Phipps  ever  had  a  more 
aggravating  experience,  in  all  his  adventures,  with 
mutineers  and  pirates,  than  he  underwent  at  the  hands 
of  Randolph  and  Governor  Andros.  He  was  not  a  man 
of  finished  education.  Born  in  Maine,  in  a  family  of 
twenty-one  children,  he  had  been  obliged  to  commence 
the  round  of  shifting  for  himself  at  an  early  age.  He 
had  apprenticed  himself  to  a  ship-carpenter  at  eighteen 
and  then  had  come  to  Boston  four  years  later,  when  he 
went  to  work  and  taught  himself  to  read  and  to  write. 

Hampered  now,  by  this  lack  of  early  opportunities, 
insulted,  and  finding  his  most  sincere  efforts  nullified 
and  his  plans  constantly  frustrated,  by  the  delays  and 
artifices  of  the  council  under  Andros,  he  was  made 
heartily  sick  of  the  whole  situation. 

His  return  to  Boston,  however,  was  not  marked  en 
tirely  by  chagrin  and  discouragement.  He  had  his 
wife  with  him,  and  herein  lay  the  greatest  happiness 
which  ever  came  into  his  eventful  life.  He  built  her 


Foiled  Purposes.  347 

the  "fair  brick  house,  in  the  Green  Lane,"  which  he 
had  promised,  years  before,  and  he  endeared  many  of 
the  staunch  patriots,  who  beheld  his  efforts  to  help 
them,  sadly,  though  with  admiration. 

Although  Garde  had  never  known  how  very  intimate 
indeed  had  been  the  relations  of  Captain  Phipps  and 
Adam,  yet  she  was  aware  that  they  had  been  much 
together.  She  had  naturally  learned,  in  common  with 
all  the  inhabitants  of  Boston,  that  Sir  William  had 
found  the  treasure  he  had  spent  so  many  years  in  seek 
ing,  but  she  had  never  known  that  when  she  sent  Adam 
away  he  had  gone  to  Hispaniola  to  join  the  searching 
expedition.  Therefore  she  was  in  ignorance  of  the  fact 
that  Adam  was  wealthy. 

But,  after  all,  she  was  only  concerned  with  Adam's 
present  whereabouts,  and  the  reasons  why,  after  all 
these  months  and  months  of  waiting — it  being  now  two 
full  years  since  that  last  tragic  meeting — he  had  never 
relented  sufficiently  to  write,  or  to  send  her  a  word. 

As  time  had  gone  on,  she  had  become  more  and  more 
convinced,  either  that  Adam  intended  never  to  forgive 
her,  or  that  he  had  married  some  one  else  and  therefore 
could  not,  in  honor,  think  longer  upon  her.  Her  be 
lief  inclined  toward  the  first  explanation.  She  con 
fessed  that  she  had  done  him  a  great  wrong,  especially 
as  she  had  never  even  so  much  as  permitted  him  to 
deny  the  story  of  the  Indian  child,  but  she  argued  that 
had  she  been  in  his  place  and  forgiveness  had  been  so 
earnestly  implored,  she  could  not  have  had  the  heart  to 
refuse. 

It  was  the  one  little  sad  privilege  left  her,  to  make 
up  her  mind  she  would  wait,  till  death,  if  need  be, 


348  Hearts  of  Grace 

patiently,  lovingly,  till  Adam  should  one  day  know  she 
loved  him  and  that  she  was  keeping  herself  sacred  for 
his  claiming.  And  if  he  never  did  come  to  claim  her, 
still  she  would  love  him.  If  death  came  to  take  her, 
she  would  go  to  death  as  a  bride  would  go  to  church, 
to  wait  the  coming  of  her  love. 

In  the  frame  of  mind  which  her  vigil  had  begotten, 
fortified  by  her  sense  of  maidenly  pride  and  diffidence, 
it  was  utterly  impossible  for  her  to  think  of  going 
either  to  Sir  William  Phipps,  or  to  his  wife,  to  ask  for 
information  concerning  Adam.  She  was  aware  that 
the  Captain  doubtless  knew  of  Adam's  whereabouts, 
his  position  in  life  and  whether  or  not  he  was  married, 
but  if  Adam  chose  to  remain  silent,  disdainful  and  un 
forgiving,  she  would  rather  die  than  go  to  a  stranger  to 
ask  about  him,  or  to  send  him  anything  further,  in  the 
way  of  a  word  or  a  letter. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Garde  had  attempted  to  send 
another  little  letter,  a  year  after  the  first  one  had  gone, 
but  it  too  had  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  Randolph. 
The  creature  had  destroyed  it,  as  containing  nothing 
of  importance  to  any  of  his  machinations,  for  it  merely 
asked  the  rover  if  he  had  received  the  first  epistle. 

Thus  Garde's  golden  opportunity  slipped  away  un 
used,  and  her  life  narrowed  down,  more  and  more,  to 
the  simple  duties  of  taking  what  care  she  could  of  the 
white-haired  old  man,  her  grandfather,  who  rubbed  his 
thumb  across  the  ends  of  his  fingers  endlessly,  although 
he  was  slowly  being  restored  to  his  old-time  activity  of 
mind  and  body. 

Utterly  disheartened,  by  the  futility  of  his  desires 
and  efforts  to  serve  his  country  in  his  capacity  of 


Foiled  Purposes.  349 

Sheriff,  Sir  William  Phipps  was  glad  to  receive  a  letter 
that  came  from  Increase  Mather,  informing  him  that 
the  time  was  drawing  near  for  renewed  labors  to  be 
attempted  in  England.  Responding  to  this,  he  de 
serted  his  useless  office  and  sailed  for  London  in  the 
midst  of  the  winter  season. 

The  opportunity  of  which  Garde  might  have  availed 
herself,  to  learn  something  of  Adam,  was  gone.  She 
knew  not  what  she  had  done,  or  what  she  had  lost. 

Phipps  came  to  England  at  a  moment  when  epochs 
were  fairly  in  the  process  of  crystalization. 

King  James,  the  last  of  Britain's  Roman  Catholic 
monarchs,  had  been  obliged  to  abdicate  his  throne  and 
to  flee  to  Ireland  for  his  life. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MAKING  HISTOBY. 

UNTHRONED  and  uncrowned  as  he  was,  James,  for 
some  inexplicable  reason,  still  entertained  a  wild  idea 
that  the  colonies,  the  patriots  of  which  he  had  taken 
no  pains  to  endear  to  his  cause  or  himself,  would  still 
remain  loyal  and  contented  to  acquiesce  in  his  dominion. 
He  made  all  haste  to  communicate  with  Sir  "William 
Phipps,  as  a  representative  of  New  England  whom  he 
had  always  honored  and  esteemed.  He  offered  to  ap 
point  the  Captain  his  Governor  of  all  New  England, 
with  plenary  powers,  in  almost  any  direction,  con 
cerning  the  old  charter  and  all. 

Promptly  and  with  the  blunt  wisdom  which  marked 
his  course  through  life,  Phipps  refused  the  honor. 
Catholicism  had  never  appealed  to  his  sense  of  good 
government,  and  loyalty  to  the  English  throne,  from 
which  the  colonies  had  their  being,  was  deeply  ingrained 
in  his  nature.  Gratitude  to  James  for  past  favors,  to 
which  he  felt  he  was  somewhat  entitled,  was  a  large 
quality  in  Sir  William,  but  between  gratitude  and  folly 
he  drew  a  sturdy  line. 

With  Increase  Mather,  Phipps  went  to  work  at  once 
at  the  Court  of  William  of  Orange,  who  with  Mary  as 
cended  the  British  throne  early  in  1689.  Intelligence 
as  to  the  sinister  machinations  of  Randolph  and  Andros 
35Q 


Making  History.  351 

leaked  through  the  censorship,  and  came  to  Mather 
and  the  Captain.  Their  case  was  strengthened.  The 
Prince  of  Orange  was  bound,  by  all  the  faith  of  his 
Protestant  principles,  to  grant  what  release  he  might  to 
the  American  colonies  from  the  oppressors  placed  in 
power  by  the  Stuarts. 

The  new  King's  declaration  of  his  sway  was  conveyed 
in  haste  to  the  American  shores.  It  was  taken  over 
land  from  Virginia  to  Massachusetts.  The  spirit  of 
the  Puritans,  which  had  simmered  so  long,  began  to 
make  the  sounds  of  boiling. 

Andros,  mighty  in  his  sovereignty,  arrested  the  mes 
senger  who  had  fetched  the  news,  but  the  news  had 
leaped  from  lip  to  lip,  and  the  torch  had  been  applied 
to  combustible  thought. 

In  March,  John  Winslow  confirmed  the  declaration 
of  the  new  monarchs.  The  people  now  gathered  to 
gether  their  all-but-forgotten  muskets  and  pikes. 
Against  the  flood-tide  coming  toward  him,  Governor 
Andros  reared  a  barricade  of  threats.  The  frigate 
"  Rose  "  was  lying  in  the  harbor,  bristling  with  guns 
that  showed  like  so  many  sinister,  black  fangs.  Her 
decks  were  alive  with  soldiers.  The  Governor  de 
manded  the  submission  and  disarmament  of  the  people, 
on  pain  of  death.  He  declared  his  intention  of  employ 
ing  the  cannon  and  arsenal  of  the  frigate  forthwith, 
if  the  angry  disturbances  did  not  immediately  cease. 

On  the  18th  of  April  the  patriots  were  prepared  with 
their  answer.  The  captain  of  the  frigate,  with  nearly 
all  of  his  officers,  had  come  ashore,  to  hold  a  confer 
ence  with  Andros  and  Randolph.  The  Puritans  sud 
denly  swooped  down  upon  them  and  captured  every 


352  Hearts  of  Grace 

Jack  of  the  lot.  The  frigate  was  thus  put  out  of 
action  at  one  clever  stroke. 

Now  rolled  the  alarm  of  beaten  drums  through  the 
martial  city  of  Boston.  In  their  old  Indian-fighting 
regalia,  the  citizens  swarmed  from  their  houses  into 
the  streets.  They  set  up  their  ensign  on  Beacon  Hill, 
at  the  edge  of  the  Common,  they  fired  a  signal  gun  for 
action,  and  falling  upon  Randolph  and  many  of  the 
council,  which  Andros  had  collected  about  him,  they 
rushed  them  to  jail  and  took  possession  of  the  town. 

The  proclamation  of  King  "William  was  read,  with 
loud  acclaim.  The  excited  populace  surged  in  the 
narrow,  crooked  highways.  The  leaders  demanded  of 
Andros  that  he  surrender  both  his  office  and  himself. 
The  man  refused  and  fled  to  his  stronghold,  whence  he 
defied  the  patriots  and  continued  to  the  last  to  declare 
his  power,  though  like  water  now  fast  escaping  from 
his  grasp. 

Surrounding  their  ex-master  they  made  him  a  pris 
oner,  not  a  refugee,  and  at  length  he  gave  in  and  was 
captured  and  sent  to  confinement,  along  with  the 
others  of  his  recent  government. 

With  an  instinct  for  conventions,  the  citizens  were 
soon  assembled.  Howsoever  great  had  been  their  heat 
in  their  moment  of  rebellion  and  triumph,  they  were 
calm  enough  to  be  wise  when  the  time  arrived  to  declare 
for  themselves.  They  reinstated  Bradstreet  and  the 
Council  of  '86.  They  declared  the  old  Government  in 
force  and  their  former  charter  ijjso  facto  restored,  un 
impaired  by  the  interim  of  nearly  three  years  of  mal 
administration. 

William  and  Mary  received  the  report  of  all  these 


Making  History.  353 

swiftly  terminated  proceedings  with  a  favor  which  was 
not  unblended  with  astonishment.  Admiring  the 
Protestant  spirit,  which  it  had  become  their  own 
special  province  to  uphold,  they  lost  no  time  in  con 
firming  the  entire  course  of  actions,  even  to  the  tem 
porary  resumption  of  their  old  charter  privileges  and 
powers,  by  the  patriots  across  the  sea.  And  there,  for 
a  time,  they  were  contented  to  permit  the  matter  to 
rest.  The  affairs  of  England  they  had  found  so  com 
pletely  engrossing  that  they  had  no  time  to  spare  to 
ward  regranting  a  specific  charter  to  Massachusetts. 

Increase  Mather,  suspicious  of  privileges  and  liberties 
not  absolutely  signed,  sealed  and  delivered,  remained 
at  his  post,  working  continuously  and  sedulously  to 
obtain  that  monarchical  support  and  confirmation  of 
the  colony's  prerogatives  which  his  many  compatriots 
had  sent  him  to  secure. 

Sir  William  Phipps,  on  the  other  hand,  realized  the 
busy  state  of  mind  in  which  "William  and  Mary  had 
been  so  abruptly  plunged,  and  he  therefore  deferred 
further  work  with  Mather  for  a  time  more  suitable. 
Then,  when  he  learned  that  the  French  Catholics  in 
America  had  formed  alliances  with  the  Indians  and 
were  already  overrunning  the  Protestant  territory  and 
committing  daily  depredations,  he  made  up  his  mind 
once  more  to  return  to  the  field  of  action,  in  which  he 
might  be  able  to  render  more  effective  service  than  he 
could  by  remaining  in  England. 

He  arrived  in  the  summer  of  that  fateful  year,  '89, 
and  offered  himself  to  Bradstreet  at  once.     The  period 
of  warfare  in  which  he  thereupon  engaged  was  one  of 
great  length  and  of  much  bitterness. 
23 


3S4  Hearts  of  Grace 

Alternating  defeat  and  victory  left  the  advantages 
with  the  French  and  Indians,  so  far  as  hopes  of  ulti 
mate  success  were  concerned.  The  colonists  had  to  make 
such  long,  tedious  marches  that  decisive  victories  for 
their  arms  were  almost  impossible.  The  enemy  gained 
in  confidence,  audacity  and  numbers. 

In  despair  the  General  Court  finally  offered  two 
sloops  of  war,  free,  together  with  all  the  profits  of 
plunder  which  might  result  from  the  enterprise,  to 
any  man  who  would  undertake  to  reduce  to  ashes 
Penobscot,  St.  John's  and  Port  Royal,  the  seats  of  the 
French  and  Indian  power.  The  offer  attracted  Phipps, 
who  foresaw,  in  the  execution  of  the  task,  an  infinite 
amount  of  adventure  and  action. 

He  enlisted  men  for  the  undertaking.  Yet  matters 
grew  worse  with  such  alarming  rapidity  that  before  the 
enterprise  could  be  placed  in  readiness  for  work,  it  be 
came  necessary  to  raise  a  small  fleet  of  vessels  prepared 
for  war-like  operations.  Thus  seven  sloops  and  seven 
hundred  men,  under  command  of  Sir  William,  sailed 
away  to  the  North  on  their  sinister  errand. 

Port  Royal,  secure  and  arrogant,  in  her  fancied  iso 
lation  from  attack,  was  surprised  and  taken.  The 
French  were  routed  with  great  loss.  The  town  was 
looted  until  hardly  so  much  as  a  sauce-pan  was  left  by 
the  thorough-going  warriors  of  New  England.  The 
plunder,  while  not  enormously  valuable,  nevertheless 
was  sufficient  to  help  materially  in  meeting  the  expenses 
of  the  venture.  But  its  indirect  effect  on  the  colonists 
was  not  so  happy.  Cupidity  is  so  often  the  jackal  that 
follows  righteous  indignation. 

The   Puritans  foresaw  opportunities  to  punish  the 


Making  History.  355 

enemy,  at  the  enemy's  own  expense.  A  second  expedi 
tion,  to  go  against  Quebec,  was  planned,  the  patriots 
expecting  in  confidence  that,  like  the  first,  it  would 
surely  succeed,  if  Phipps  were  at  its  head,  and  that  the 
plunder  would  more  than  repay  the  initial  expenses  of 
the  expedition. 

Sir  William,  having  expressed  his  doubts  of  the  wis 
dom  of  this  over-ambitious  scheme,  nevertheless  com 
manded  the  fleet  once  more  as  it  sailed  away,  eager  for 
further  conquest. 

The  enterprise  was  doomed  to  failure  from  the  first. 
It  dragged  out  interminably,  it  developed  jealousies,  it 
was  ill-planned.  Such  a  bedraggled,  failure-smitten 
lot  of  lame-duck  sloops  returned  to  Boston  that  the 
council  were  simply  appalled.  They  had  expended  so 
much  of  their  meager  hoard  of  funds  on  the  venture, 
that  the  treasury  was  practically  bankrupted. 

Blame  rained  upon  the  head  of  Phipps,  for  not  hav 
ing  succeeded  against  impossible  conditions.  Driven 
to  extremities,  by  the  woeful  lack  of  plunder,  the  col 
ony-fathers  were  obliged,  for  the  first  time  in  their 
history,  to  issue  paper  currency.  The  notes  ranged  in 
value  from  denominations  of  two  shillings  up  to  ten 
pounds. 

Still  an  undimmed  patriot,  ready  to  serve  his  country 
in  whatsoever  direction  an  opportunity  was  afforded, 
Williams  Phipps  gave  his  gold  for  the  colony's  bills, 
absorbing  thus  a  very  considerable  sum.  His  example 
induced  investments  in  the  paper  from  all  directions. 
Nevertheless  the  currency  soon  came  tumbling  down  in 
value,  till  a  pound  in  paper  was  worth  less  than  three- 
fourths  of  its  face. 


356  Hearts  of  Grace 

The  sailors,  and  other  working  people,  lost  heavily, 
in  these  times  of  trouble  and  weakened  confidence. 
Yet  eventually  the  money  was  all  redeemed  at  par  by 
the  Massachusetts  government. 

Sir  William,  weary  of  being  reviled  for  his  paina,  re 
turned  to  England  once  again  and  resumed  his  labors 
with  Increase  Mather,  to  secure  to  the  colony  a  definite 
charter. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OLD  ACQUAINTANCES. 

ADAM  RUST  failed,  even  in  the  intricacies  of  collect 
ing  violins  and  the  pursuit  of  health  for  the  old  beef 
eaters,  to  find  the  depths  of  forgetfulness  he  sought, 
but  which  could  not  come  to  a  nature  such  as  his  had 
always  been.  Indeed  seclusion,  away  from  the  gaiety 
of  Court  and  his  fellow-beings  seemed  rather  to  develop 
the  old,  half -forgotten  memories  in  his  brain,  whereon 
had  once  been  shadowed  the  sufferings  of  King  Philip, 
his  Indian  foster-father,  and  all  his  race  of  hunted 
people. 

The  beef-eaters,  also,  were  not  absolutely  contented, 
away  from  their  own  country  and  the  haunts  wherein 
they  were  wont  to  brag,  to  drink  and  to  swagger. 
Yielding  at  last  to  their  importunities,  Adam  returned 
with  the  pair  to  London. 

Once  in  the  foggy  capital  again,  he  was  soon  pounced 
upon,  by  old  associates,  with  whom  he  found  it  exhil 
arating  once  again  to  consort.  A  treatise  on  rare  vio 
lins  and  their  makers,  over  which  he  had  labored  and 
pondered  for  months,  or  even  years,  was  now  neglected. 

He  sharpened  his  wits,  had  a  look  at  his  sword  and 
brightened  up  his  disused  tinsel  of  conversation.  He 
soon  began  to  believe  the  greatest  forgetfulness,  after 
all,  is  where  the  Babel  of  tongues  is  loudest,  and  that 

357 


358  Hearts  of  Grace 

the  most  absolute  solitude  is  to  be  found  in  the  midst 
of  the  largest  throng. 

The  social  functions  of  the  new  King  were  fewer,  less 
brilliant  and  not  to  be  compared,  in  point  of  popularity, 
with  those  of  James.  The  Dukes,  the  Marchionesses 
and  lesser  lights  were  therefore  constrained  to  make  the 
more  of  their  private  parties.  There  was,  in  conse 
quence,  no  stint  of  hunting,  drinking  and  dancing — all 
as  condiments  poured  about  the  omniprevalent  piece  de 
resistance — making  love. 

At  the  Duchess  of  Kindlen's,  Adam  found  the  set  he 
had  known  particularly  well.  He  was  welcomed  back  to 
their  circle  as  a  long-lost  fixture  without  whose  presence 
no  one  was  at  all  able  to  explain  how  they  had  managed 
to  go  on  existing.  They  fitted  him  back  in  his  niche 
with  a  promptness  which  might  have  been  flattering,  had 
he  not  been  aware  that  they  wished  merely  to  feed  upon 
him  as  a  new  entertainer,  or  an  old  one  refurbished. 

He  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  Lady  Violet  had 
been  married  in  his  absence.  He  was  duly  informed 
of  this  event,  which  he  described  as  an  irreparable 
calamity  in  his  life,  by  Lady  Margaret,  who  was  more 
of  a  brilliant  blossom  of  feminine  charm  and  entice 
ments  than  ever  before. 

"  But  you,  my  dear  Lady  Margaret,"  he  said,  ' '  you 
have  been  true  to  my  memory  ?  You  have  never  learned 
to  love  another  ?  " 

"I  never  learned  to  love  you,  Adam,"  she  said. 

"  Then  it  must  have  been  a  matter  of  spontaneous 
combustion,"  he  concluded.  "  You  always  did  manage 
your  compliments  adroitly." 

"  Confirmed  villain,"  she  answered,  "  a  woman  would 


Old  Acquaintances.  359 

be  mad  who  loved  such  a  bubble  of  flattering  reflections 
as  you  have  always  been." 

"I  was  not  accusing  yon  of  sanity,"  he  told  her 
frankly.  "  I  was  merely  inquiring  whether  or  not  you 
have  learned  to  love  somebody  else,  in  my  absence." 

"And  if  I  had,  what  then?" 

"  I  should  wish  to  pause  for  reflection,  before  deter 
mining  whether  I  should  be  more  sorry  for  the  other 
fellow  or  for  myself." 

"  Fiend  !  "  she  said,  mildly,  "  you  shall  never  know." 

"  Know  what  ? — know  where  to  place  my  sym 
pathy  ?  " 

"  You  shall  never  know  whether  I  have  learned  to 
love  another,  or  not." 

"  Well,  neither  will  you — that  one's  consolation." 

"  But  at  least  I  shall  know  how  I  feel  toward  you, 
Adam  Rust." 

"  So  shall  I,"  said  the  cheerful  Adam.  "  I  have 
always  known.  If  you  should  say  you  were  dying,  I 
should  know  you  were  dying  to  run  away  with  me, 
forthwith.  It's  not  your  fault,  you  can't  help  it." 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  in  my  life  ! "  she 
said. 

"  Then  you  ought  at  once  to  consult  a  physician  for 
a  bad  case  of  insomnia.  I  thought  your  eyes  looked  a 
bit  weary." 

"  You  vile  thing  !  "  she  answered.  "  Ted  never  said 
such  a  thing  as  that  in  his  life." 

"  Then  you  have  been  trying  to  learn  to  love  Ted  ? 
I  thought  you  had  a  faithless  look  about  you — all  ex 
cept  about  your  eyes.  Alas,  from  the  way  you  talk  I 
know  you  must  be  married  already  to  this  Ted." 


360  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  I'm  not ! "  she  said,  unguardedly.  "  I  refused  only 
to-night  to  set  the  day." 

"This  was  a  thoughtfulness  toward  me  I  had  not  ex- 
pected,"  said  Rust,  complacently.  "  But  you  are  be 
trothed,  and  this  was  unkind." 

"  Unkind  to  whom  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  To  Ted— and  to  me." 

"You  will  like  Ted,"  she  told  him,  more  artfully. 

"At  the  other  end  of  a  duel,  yes — immensely." 

"  He's  a  terrible  swordsman,"  she  said,  to  urge  him 
on. 

"  Yet  how  poorly  he  fenced  with  you." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  You  won.     You  got  him — poor  devil." 

"  Wretch  !  Ted  at  least  would  never  pick  on  a 
woman." 

"If  it's  Ted  Suffle,"  said  Rust,  "I  saw  him  pick  on 
his  teeth,  to-night,  and  that  is  worse — in  company." 

"  His  tooth  aches  terribly ! "  said  Lady  Margaret, 
defending  poor  Suffle  gallantly. 

"He  indulges  in  too  much  sweets,"  Adam  remarked, 
unmoved.  "Treat  him  the  way  you  do  me  and  he'll 
soon  be  better." 

"  I  wish  Ted  could  hear  the  way  you  talk  to  me," 
she  said. 

"  If  he  could  hear  the  things  you  say  to  me,  he  would 
demand  that  duel  quicker,"  Rust  responded.  "Tell 
me  something  outrageous  to  say  to  the  fellow,  so  that 
he  will  be  obliged  to  challenge." 

<f  Nonsense,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  slyly,  "  don't 
be  silly.  You  wouldn't  fight  a  duel  over  me." 

"  Ah,  but  think  what  a  lot  of  ladies  would  think  me 


Old  Acquaintances.  361 

a  hero,"  he  replied  with  enthusiasm.  "And  I  might 
also  be  banished  from  the  country.  You  can  never  tell 
where  luck  and  lightning  will  strike  next." 

"  Go  away,  Adam,"  she  said.  "You  are  perfectly 
monstrous." 

"  I'll  go  and  have  a  look  at  Ted,"  he  answered, 
calmly.  "  If  he  is  a  gentleman  he  .will  probably  insult 
me  without  delay." 

To  Lady  Margaret's  utter  dismay  and  astonishment, 
he  sauntered  off  at  once  and  actually  went  to  where 
Suffle  was  standing,  and  had  himself  presented. 

"  I  have  asked  for  this  honor,"  he  said,  "  the  sooner 
to  offer  my  best  congratulations  on  your  betrothal. 
Lady  Margaret  has  told  me  a  little  about  it.  She  is 
the  happiest  girl  I  have  ever  seen  in  all  my  life." 

"  You  are  a  good  chap  to  say  so,"  said  Suffle.  "  Do 
you  know,  I  fancied  I  should  like  you,  Mr.  Bust,  the 
moment  I  saw  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  my  friendship  as  a  wed 
ding  present,"  Adam  told  him,  honestly,  knowing  at 
once  that  Suffle  was  a  fellow  he  could  really  somewhat 
like.  Then  he  added,  more  equivocally  :  "  I  have 
known  Lady  Margaret  so  long  that  I  shall  take  great 
happiness  in  seeing  the  consummation  of  this  happy 
event." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JUGGLING  WITH   FIRE. 
i 

LADY  MARGARET  was  a  beautiful  woman.  The  next 
time  he  met  her,  Adam  realized  that  this  was  true. 
He  stood  looking  down  upon  her,  where  she  sat  on  a 
low  divan  which  was  made  to  throw  two  persons  very 
close  together,  and  into  which  he  had  avoided  squeez 
ing.  The  young  woman  looked  up  at  him  winningly, 
a  slumberous  passion  in  her  garnet-brown  eyes.  Her 
creamy  white  bosom  rose  and  fell  in  a  calm  voluptuous 
ness,  the  twin  beauties  of  which  were  more  than  sug 
gested. 

Rust  could  not  recall  that  he  had  ever  seen  shoulders 
more  superb,  nor  a  throat  more  delightfully  round  and 
built  upward  in  curves  to  the  perfect  chin  at  the  top. 
In  contrast  with  her  lustrously  dark  eyes  and  her  al 
most  black  eyebrows,  spanning  her  forehead  with  their 
dainty  arches,  her  old-gold  hair  was  an  amazing  crown 
of  loveliness. 

She  had  led  him  away  from  the  company,  "  to  look 
for  Ted,"  with  an  art  which  had  for  once  deceived  the 
crafty  rover  completely.  Now,  as  he  looked  upon  her, 
assuming  a  coldness  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  feel, 
and  be  a  man,  he  noted  a  beauty  in  her  bare  arms 
which  made  him  think  of  the  perfect  lines  of  a  tiger's 
paw.  He  could  have  suggested  nothing  to  make  them 
more  splendid. 
362 


Juggling  with  Fire.  363 

Indeed  she  was  well-Digh  matchless  as  a  creation  of 
nature  and  polite  society.  Her  shimmering  satin 
gown  clung  to  her  form  as  if  ardently.  Her  pretty 
gold-slippered  feet  and  her  slender  ankles,  in  red 
silk,  open-work  stockings,  defied  a  glance  to  ignore 
them. 

"  Adam,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him  archly,  "  I 
wish  you  were  a  girl — just  for  a  few  moments,  you 
know." 

"You  would  suffer  by  the  contrast  between  us," 
said  Eust. 

"You  would  know  what  a — what  a  bore  he  is,"  she 
went  on,  regardless  of  his  comment.  "  And  it  would 
serve  you  right." 

"  You  doubtless  mean  the  King/'  he  replied. 
"  Your  expedients  are  cruel.  Make  anything  out  of 
me — a  camel,  if  you  like, — but  not  a  girl." 

"  I  mean  Ted,"  she  said,  a  little  desperately.  "  You 
know  I  mean  Ted.  You  know  what  a  bore  he  is." 

"  Then  you  have  spoiled  him  since  morning." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  be  the  only  man  who  isn't  a 
bore,"  she  went  on. 

"  You'll  be  telling  me  I  am  the  only  man  you  ever 
loved,  in  a  moment,"  he  answered.  "I  can  feel  it 
coming." 

"  And  if  I  did,"  she  said  with  a  passionate  glance, 
"  what  then  ?  " 

Adam  was  frightened,  as  he  had  never  been  before  in 
his  life.  He  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  flecked  a 
bit  of  dust  from  his  boot,  nonchalantly. 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  be  bled  for  fever,"  he 
said.  "  And  I  should  know  the  old  affection  you  had 


364  Hearts  of  Grace 

for  me  once  had  departed  forever.  Couldn't  you  break 
my  heart  in  some  simpler  way,  dear  Lady  Margaret  ?  " 

"  It  was  all  your  fault  for  going  away,"  she  told  him. 
"  You  knew  I  liked  you  before  you  went  a.Tay." 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  responded  gaily,  "  but  I  saw  that  your 
passionate  love  for  me  was  waning,  so  I  went  away  to 
kindle  it  over  again." 

"  Do  be  serious  for  a  moment,"  she  murmured,  vexed 
with  his  calmness  and  his  raillery.  "  You  know  Ted 
is  a  dreadful  bore." 

"  Then  since  you  have  given  him  the  love  that  once 
was  mine,  my  cue  is  to  become  a  bore  instanter." 

"  You  would  never  know  it,  if  I  loved  you  madly," 
she  said,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  her  declaration 
centered  in  her  eyes." 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  he  corrected,  placidly.  "  If  you 
loved  me  madly  you  would  tell  me  about  it ;  you  know 
yon  would." 

Her  breath  came  fast.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell 
rapidly.  "  You  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  did,"  she 
said. 

"  If  you  told  me  you  loved  me  madly,"  said  Adam, 
"  I  should  know  you  didn't.  So  please  let  me  go  on 
with  my  fond  delusions." 

She  was  silent  a  moment.  He  could  feel  her  burn 
ing  gaze  on  his  face.  ' '  Adam,"  she  said  presently, 
"  do  sit  down."  She  moved  to  make  half  room  enough 
for  him  on  the  divan. 

"  What,  and  make  you  stand  ? "  he  replied. 
"  Never  ! " 

She  placed  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  seat,  where 
she  knew  his  fingers  would  return  when  he  had  finished 


Juggling  with  Fire.  365 

scratching  at  a  tiny  white  speck  on  his  coat-lappel. 
He  observed  her  motion  and  thrust  his  fist  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Oh,  I  am  dying,"  she  presently  whispered,  after 
another  silence. 

"  How  interesting/'  Adam  cheerfully  commented. 
"  What  are  you  dying  for,  a  glass  of  water,  or  a  new 
set  of  diamonds  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  I  am  dying  for,"  she  said,  tremu 
lously,  in  a  voice  hardly  above  a  whisper.  "  You  said 
if  I  were  dying,  you — you  would  know  what  for." 

"  Oh,  did  I  ?  "  Adam  mused.  He  was  pale  behind 
his  calm.  His  hands  were  perspiring,  coldly.  "  Yes, 
of  course.  I  said  you  would  be  dying  to  run  away 
with  me.  And  now  you  would  try  to  prove  that  this 
was  all  wrong.  My  dear  Lady  Margaret,  this  is  un 
kind." 

She  arose  from  her  seat.  She  was  driven  to  her  wits' 
end  for  anything  to  say. 

"  Silly  boy,"  she  answered,  as  she  came  toward  him, 
and  then  she  quickly  added  :  "  Oh,  Adam,  would  you 
mind  just  clasping  this  strap  ?  " 

The  strap  was  a  narrow  bit  of  finery  which  crossed 
her  bare  shoulder.  She  had  artfully  loosened  the  golden 
clasp  and  now  came  to  present  shoulder,  strap,  clasp 
and  all  for  re-arrangement. 

"  There  is  nothing  I  can  do  with  greater  ease,"  said 
Rust,  "  There  you  are, — done  already."  He  had  per 
formed  his  office  with  amazing  dexterity  and  with  a 
touch  so  fleeting  that  she  would  never  have  known 
when  it  alighted. 

"  Oh,  you  haven't  done  it  right,  my  dear  foolish 


366  Hearts  of  Grace 

Adam,"  she  said,  with  a  delicious  little  chuckle.  "  I'll 
put  my  arm  across  your  shoulder,  so.  Now,  make  it 
right,  do,  Adam,  please." 

She  dropped  her  exquisite  arm  on  his  shoulder  as  she 
spoke  and  edged  closer.  She  turned  so  that  her  face 
was  so  near  to  his  that  he  could  feel  how  glowing  warm 
she  was.  Her  breath  fanned  against  his  cheek,  hotly. 
The  man  felt  a  sense  of  intoxication  stealing  upon  him. 
Yet  he  was  fixing  the  clasp  as  briefly  as  before,  when 
she  made  a  movement  with  her  slipper. 

"Oh,  I  am  falling,"  she  said  in  a  little  cry,  and 
throwing  both  arms  about  him,  to  support  herself,  she 
was  clasped  close  to  his  breast,  for  a  moment,  before  he 
could  seem  to  re-establish  her  balance.  In  that  brief 
time  a  mad  horde  of  thoughts  ran  riotously  through  his 
brain.  She  was  beautiful ;  she  loved  him ;  she  had 
fascinated  something  in  him  always.  Could  he  not  be 
happy,  loving  her  and  having  her  love  in  return  ?  Why 
not  run  away  with  her — to  the  Continent— anywhere — 
and  fill  the  aching  void  in  his  nature  with  love  and 
caresses  ! 

His  heart  was  beating  furiously.  He  trembled.  A 
fever  leaped  into  his  brain.  Through  his  arms  shot  a 
galvanic  contraction,  as  they  halted  in  the  act  of  clos 
ing  about  the  superb,  slender  figure  he  was  holding.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  must  kiss  her,  on  her  lips,  her  throat — 
her  shoulder ! 

"  Adam,  I  am  dying  !  "  she  whispered  to  him  again, 
as  he  held  her. 

"Don't  die  standing  up,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  re 
covery  of  the  mastery  over  himself.  "Sit  down  and 
do  it  calmly." 


Juggling  with  Fire.  367 

He  swayed  her  aside,  and  there  was  nothing  she  could 
do  but  to  take  the  seat  she  had  occupied  before. 

"  How  provoking  of  me  to  trip  on  my  gown/'  she 
said,  looking  up  at  him  sullenly.  "  Do  you  think  we 
shall  have  snow  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  shall  pray  against  a  precipitation  of  icebergs,"  said 
Adam.  "  There  is  nothing  suggestive  of  love  in  ice." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  BEEF-EATER   PASSES. 

THE  rigors  of  the  London  winter  pursued  the  beef 
eaters  relentlessly,  tapping  them  remindfully  on  the 
shoulder,  now  and  again,  with  a  cold,  or  a  spell  of 
bronchitis,  and  then,  under  cover  of  a  fog,  some  deadly 
affliction  fastened  upon  the  pair  all  at  once.  The  rover 
found  them,  after  an  absence  from  their  quarters  of 
two  days,  so  ill  that  first  one  and  then  the  other  was 
crawling  from  his  bed  to  minister  to  his  comrade,  so 
that  both  grew  rapidly  worse. 

Adam  looked  at  the  two  of  them  ruefully,  when  at 
length  he  came  to  where  they  were.  He  had  never 
known  them  ill  in  this  manner  before.  They  cared 
nothing  for  eating  ;  they  slept  but  little.  Their  eyes 
were  bright.  They  were  perfectly  cheerful,  in  a  feeble 
sort  of  way.  After  the  Sachem  had  come  they  declared 
they  wanted  for  nothing,  provided  he  would  talk  to 
them,  sing  a  little  and  let  them  lie  there  and  see  him, 
or  hear  him  play  on  his  favorite  violin. 

He  brought  them  every  comfort  which  money  could 
buy.  He  cooked  for  them,  served  them  and  ate  at  their 
board — which  was  a  board  indeed,  reaching  from  one 
bed  to  the  other,  where  they  could  easily  get  at  what  he 
spread  on  its  surface  for  their  pleasure.  But  the  choice 
wines  he  fetched,  and  the  fruits  and  the  delicate  bits  of 
game  and  fish,  remained  almost  wholly  untasted. 
368 


A  Beef-eater  Passes.  369 

Adam  was  soon  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  He 
tried  to  get  at  their  symptoms. 

"  Pike,  you  rogue,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  know  where 
you  feel  bad.  You  are  ill,  you  know  ;  now  where  is  the 
pain  ?  * 

"  By  my  sword-stroke,"  said  Pike,  in  a  worn-down 
voice,  <e  I  have  no  pain.  I  may  be  tired,  to-day,  but  to 
morrow,  bring  me  a  pirate  and  I  shall  eat  him  without 
the  trouble  of  slicing  him  first." 

"  Tired,  that's  it,"  agreed  Halberd.  "  I'm  a  bit  tired 
myself,  this  afternoon,  but  by  cock's  crow  to-morrow  I 
could  enjoy  pulling  the  tail  out  of  a  lion  and  beating 
the  beast  to  death  with  the  bloody  end  of  it." 

"  Well,  doesn't  your  stomach  ache,  or  your  head 
hurt  you  ?  "  insisted  Adam.  "  When  you  cough  like 
that,  doesn't  it  hurt  your  chest  ?  " 

"No,  I  like  it,  for  the  tickling,"  said  Halberd. 

The  two  old  scamps  were  afraid  of  being  taken  across 
the  channel  to  Spain  again,  or  down  into  France,  or 
perhaps  across  to  Morocco.  After  three  days  of  his 
"  tinkering  "  unsuccessfully,  with  his  faithful  compan 
ions,  Adam  called  in  a  doctor. 

The  worthy  physician  promptly  bled  the  two  patients. 
Little  Pike  became  quieter,  if  possible,  than  before. 
Halberd,  on  the  contrary,  was  somewhat  wrought  up  in 
his  feelings. 

"By  my  steel !"  said  he,  when  the  doctor  had  de 
parted,  "  this  puny  Sir  Nostrum  has  let  more  of  my 
juice  with  his  nonsense  than  ever  was  taken  by  swords 
man  out  of  my  carcass.  Faith  !  I'll  pulp  the  fellow, 
and  he  comes  again  ! " 

Adam   laughed,  for   Halberd  suddenly  got  back  a 
24 


370  Hearts  of  Grace 

monstrous  appetite.  He  likewise  abounded  in  pains, 
which  he  permitted  the  Sachem  to  soothe  ;  and  he 
otherwise  improved  past  all  belief.  He  had  been  a  little 
ill,  and  his  sympathy  with  Pike  had  made  his  ailment 
mischievous. 

Pike,  however,  had  no  such  rally  in  him.  He  put  in 
his  time  smoothing  the  coverlet  with  slow,  feeble  move 
ments,  while  he  lay  there  looking  at  Adam  with  dumb 
affection  until  one  could  almost  fancy  he  was  wagging 
a  tail,  with  weak,  joyful  jerks. 

He  got  the  Sachem  to  sing  him  the  love  song  of  the 
many  seas,  for  Pike  had  once  had  a  heart  full  of  love 
for  a  maiden  himself,  and  while  the  experience  was 
nothing  jollier  than  a  funeral  on  the  day  set  for  the 
wedding,  nevertheless  he  liked  the  lively  song,  with  all 
its  various  maids  and  misses  mentioned,  for  he  con 
ceived  them  all  to  be  the  self-same  girl,  after  all, 
simply  transported  to  different  climes. 

While  Adam  was  singing  and  playing,  with  the  mer 
riest  spirit  he  could  conjure,  the  wistful  old  Pike  had 
the  impudence  to  close  his  eyes  and  die. 

A  faint  smile  lingered  on  his  face  ;  whether  as  a  re 
sult  of  his  joke  on  Adam  and  Halberd,  or  his  pleasure 
derived  from  the  song,  could  never  be  known. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  WOMAN  SCORNED. 

SIR  WILLIAM  PHIPPS  and  Increase  Mather,  together 
with  the  other  Puritan  partiots  who  made  up  the  small 
band  of  charter-hunters  at  the  Court  of  William  and 
Mary,  worked  consistently,  if  not  harmoniously,  to 
ward  their  end. 

They  found  their  monarch  disposed  to  permit  them 
to  do  about  as  they  pleased,  when  at  length  he  com- 
phehended  their  situation  and  the  needs  of  Mas 
sachusetts.  His  attorney-general  was  ordered  to  draw 
up  a  charter,  on  the  broad  lines  suggested  by  the 
American  council.  No  sooner  did  they  get  it  into 
their  hands,  however,  than  they  fell  into  heated  discus 
sions  over  trifling  divergencies  which  they  found  be 
tween  it  and  the  older  charter,  which  they  had  come 
to  regard  with  almost  idolatrous  awe  and  reverence. 

The  new  charter  granted  them  many  liberties  and 
privileges  which  the  old  one  had  not  contained.  Time 
even  proved  the  new  one  to  be  the  better  document  for 
the  colony,  but  despite  these  facts,  and  the  further  fact 
that  it  restored  to  their  dominion  the  provinces  of 
Maine,  New  Hampshire,  and  Nova  Scotia,  to  the  St. 
Lawrence  River,  they  found  much  at  which  to  grumble. 

However,  they  finally  accepted  what  they  had,  with 
what  show  of  gratitude  they  were  able  to  simulate. 


372  Hearts  of  Grace 

Their  disaffection  doubtless  had  its  purpose,  and  it 
might  have  been  fruitful  of  the  further  concession 
which  they  gained,  namely,  the  privilege  of  nominating 
their  own  next  Governor. 

Here,  for  once,  they  were  quite  unanimous.  They 
requested  that  Sir  William  Phipps  be  appointed.  They 
knew  that  without  the  priceless  services  which  he  had 
rendered  the  cause,  during  all  his  sojourn  in  England, 
they  might  never  have  received  a  tithe  of  what  was 
now  secured  to  their  country  with  all  possible  sta 
bility. 

The  nomination  of  Captain  Phipps  was  made  com 
plete  by  the  King  without  delay.  He  was  constituted 
Captain-General  and  Governor-in-Chief  of  the  Prov 
ince  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  in  New  England,  and 
likewise  Captain-General  of  the  Colonies  of  Connect 
icut  and  Khode  Island. 

Weighted  down  with  these  new  responsibilities,  he 
went  seeking  for  Adam  Kust,  at  the  gay  salon  of  the 
Duchess  of  Kindlen,  noted  in  its  day  for  its  scope  and 
the  liberties  acceded  to  the  guests  who  assembled  in 
its  spacious  halls. 

Having  heard  from  a  mutual  friend  that  Sir  William 
would  be  looking  him  up  at  the  Duchess',  Adam  re 
paired  to  the  scene  rather  more  early  than  was  his 
custom.  He  had  seen  but  little  of  the  captain  for  a 
matter  of  several  years.  He  was  chiding  himself  upon 
the  negligence  by  which  this  had  been  made  possible, 
when  he  arrived  at  the  house. 

The  funeral  of  the  faithful  Pike,  and  the  plight  of 
the  lorn  old  Halberd,  since  losing  his  comrade,  had 
depressed  Adam's  spirits  immeasurably.  Halberd  had 


A  Woman  Scorned.  373 

been  following  him  about,  dumbly,  ever  since  the 
dire  event  in  the  family.  He  said  but  little  ;  he  made 
no  complaints  of  his  loneliness.  He  simply  hung  on 
Adam's  footsteps,  like  a  homeless  old  dog,  whose  one 
remaining  instinct  is  faithfulness  and  undying  affection, 
waiting  for  his  master  when  he  came  from  the  brightly- 
lighted  houses,  pleased  and  excited  whenever  he  could 
have  the  Sachem  to  talk  with  on  the  topic  of  Pike's 
many  virtues  and  traits  of  character  that  confirmed 
him  in  his  fellow's  affections. 

Adam  had  taken  the  lorn  beef-eater  into  his  own 
apartments,  where  he  could  keep  a  more  careful  watch 
over  his  health  and  his  negative  happiness.  No  friend 
among  all  his  noble  acquaintances  had  such  a  hold  on 
Adam's  heart  as  had  this  bragging  old  remnant  of  his 
retinue,  and  to  none  did  he  drop  the  mask  of  frivolity 
as  he  did  before  this  companion,  whom  nothing  could 
discourage  nor  alter. 

Thus  he  had  been  glad  to  think  of  going  no  more 
where  the  Duchess,  Lady  Margaret  and  the  others 
assembled,  with  their  tinsel  show,  their  thinly-plated 
talk,  their  gambling  and  amours,  but  had  contemplated 
going  away  with  Halberd,  into  Nature's  simpler  walks 
and  profounder  beauties. 

The  garish  glitter  struck  inharmoniously  upon  him, 
as  he  walked  impatiently  through  the  brilliant  rooms, 
in  a  search  for  Sir  William  Phipps,  who  had  not  yet 
arrived.  He  presently  found  himself  confronted  by 
Suffle,  who,  in  turn,  had  been  looking  about  for  Lady 
Margaret. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Suffle,  at  once.  "  My  dear 
Bust,  I  am  charmed  to  see  you  again.  I  have  been 


374  Hearts  of  Grace 

wanting  to  see  you,  'pon  my  word.  Would  you  mind 
just  giving  me  a  few  minutes'  talk  ?" 

"  One  of  my  greatest  delights  is  derived  from  listen 
ing  to  a  brilliant  conversationalist,"  said  Eust.  "  Where 
shall  we  go?" 

"  There  is  no  one  as  yet  in  the  dice-box,"  said  the 
other.  "  If  you  don't  mind,  we  might  stroll  in  there 
by  ourselves." 

Saying,  "  I  am  yours  to  command,"  Adam  followed 
leisurely  behind  his  friend  to  the  now  empty  room  em 
ployed  nightly  for  gambling. 

"It's  rather  a  delicate  business — what  I  have  to  say," 
confessed  Suffle,  by  way  of  a  preface,  "  but  you  are  a 
frank,  decent  fellow,  that  a  man  can  talk  to,  well — 
openly — don't  you  know." 

''Thanks,"  said  Adam.  "If  it  is  anything  about 
Lady  Margaret,  let  us  be  sensible,  by  all  means." 

"  That's  devilish  clever  of  you,  old  chap/'  responded 
Suffle,  evidently  much  relieved  already.  "  Of  course 
you  know  how  matters  stand." 

"I  would  never  be  sure  of  where  anything  stood, 
that  had  a  woman  for  an  element  in  its  make-up." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  That's  clever,  too — deucedly  clever. 
Perhaps  I  had  better  put  it  plainly." 

"  Do,  I  beg  of  you." 

"Now — you  are  a  frank,  sensible  man.  Now — do 
you  really  like — you  know — love,  you  know — Lady 
Margaret, — just  speaking  as  man  to  man,  sensibly,  as 
you  so  cleverly  said  ?  " 

ft  Would  you  force  me  to  become  either  ungallant  or 
a  traitor  ?  >' 

"Not  at  all,  I " 


A  Woman  Scorned.  375 

"  Well,  let  us  say  that  I  am  ungallant,  since  we  are 
to  be  frank,"  said  Rust.  "  I  will  even  admit  that  I  am 
ungallant." 

"Good,"  said  Suffle.  "That's  what  I  thought— I 
mean,  you  know " 

"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  mean.     Proceed." 

"  "Well,  I  feel  very  much  relieved.  You  are  a  decent 
sort,  Rust — a  deucedly  decent  sort.  Now  I  am  very 
fond  of  Lady  Margaret.  I  have  learned  to  be,  you 
know.  My  uncle  requires  me  to  marry  her,  don't  you 
see,  or  be  cut  off  with  a  brass  farthing.  So  I  have 
learned  to  be  deucedly  fond  of  her,  you  know." 

"  Very  reasonable  and  like  a  man,"  said  Adam. 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  so  myself.  I  am  coming  to  the 
point." 

"  Then  there  is  a  point  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear  me,  yes.  You  see,  as  you  don't  care  for 
Lady  Margaret,  that  way,  and  I  do " 

"  Why  then,  to  be  sure,  take  her  and  let  me  give 
you  my  blessing,"  Rust  interrupted.  "  I  will  do  this 
with  all  my  heart." 

"Thanks,  old  chap,  but  that  is  not  quite  the  point," 
Suffle  assured  him.  "  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  she 
rather  likes  you,  Rust,  you  know.  I'm  bound  to  admit 
she  does,  though  God  knows  why,  and  we  are  two 
sensible  men,  you  know,  and  that  is  what  I  wanted  to 
talk  about." 

"You  do  me  too  great  an  honor,"  Adam  assured 
him.  "  But  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"  Why — that's  just  the  point.  Of  course  I  wouldn't 
like  to  ask  you  to  clear  out  of  the  country " 

"Don't    let    modesty    stand    in    your     way,    my 


376  Hearts  of  Grace 

dear  Suffle.  This  favor  would  be  nothing — a  mere 
trifle." 

"  Oh  no,  now,  I  wouldn't  permit  it,"  said  Suffle, 
magnanimously.  "  But  you  are  such  a  deucedly  clever 
fellow,  don't  you  know,  that  I  thought  you  might  be 
able  to  devise  something,  something  to — well,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,  oh  yes,"  said  Adam,  pulling  calmly  at  his  long 
golden  mustache.  He  meditated  for  a  moment  and 
idly  picked  up  a  dice-box,  placed  in  readiness  for  the 
evening's  play  upon  the  table.  "Do  you  ever  fripper 
away  your  time  with  these  ?  If  you  do,  perhaps  we 
might  arrange  a  little  harmless  device  without  much 
trouble." 

At  one  of  the  doors,  the  figure  of  Lady  Margaret 
appeared  and  disappeared  as  Suffle  expressed  his  eager 
ness  to  know  what  the  plan  in  Adam's  head  might  be. 
Although  she  had  glided  swiftly  from  room  to  room  in 
search  of  Rust,  Lady  Margaret  had  frowned  when  she 
saw  him  in  company  with  her  fiancS,  and  petulantly 
beating  her  fan  in  her  fragrant  little  palm,  she  had 
gone  back  around  toward  a  secondary  entrance,  in 
which  a  heavy  curtain  hung.  She  was  vaguely  won 
dering  what  the  two  could  find  to  talk  about  together, 
and  to  what  extent  they  were  gambling,  that  they  went 
at  the  dice  thus  early. 

She  now  met  Sir  William  Phipps,  Governor-elect  of 
New  England,  who  had  finally  arrived  and  who  was 
scanning  the  gathering  company  for  a  sight  of  Adam 
Rust. 

"  Oh,  how  well  you  are  looking,  Sir  William,"  she 
cried  to  Phipps,  delightedly. 


A  Woman  Scorned.  377 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  friend,"  said  the  captain,  with 
his  customary  bluntness.  "But  thank  you,  Lady 
Margaret,  thank  you,  heartily." 

"  If  you  are  looking  for  a  friend,  why,  look  over  my 
head  ?  "  she  said  to  him,  prettily.  "  Oh,  you  dear  Co 
lonial  Governors  are  such  delightfully  honest  people. 
We  all  have  to  like  you,  really." 

"I  have  found  some  honest  men  in  England,"  said 
the  Captain,  with  conviction.  "  The  Puritans  are 
growing  numerous  among  your  people." 

Lady  Margaret  laughed,  spontaneously  enough. 
"  And  what  about  our  women  ?  "  she  said.  "  Do  you 
find  them  at  all — well,  charming  ?  " 

"  Some  are  as  bold  as  a  pirate,"  he  said,  without  in 
tending  anything  personal.  He  could  see  many  ropes 
and  clusters  of  jewels,  gleaming  from  afar.  "  And 
some  of  them  must  have  plundered  many  a  good  ship 
of  her  treasure,"  he  added.  ' '  If  I  don't  put  about  and 
do  some  cruising,  I  shall  never  speak  that  boy  to-night." 

He  bowed,  somewhat  jerkily,  and  sauntered  off. 
Lady  Margaret  continued  on  her  way  around  toward 
that  curtained  door,  on  the  other  side  of  which  she  had 
seen  Bust  and  Suffle  with  the  dice. 

William  Phipps  spent  no  further  time  in  conversing 
with  the  women,  beyond  a  word  as  he  passed,  so  that 
finally  he  came  to  the  gambling  apartment,  where  he 
found  his  protege.  Knitting  his  brows  for  a  second, 
in  an  ill-concealed  annoyance,  to  see  Adam  Rust  en 
gaged  in  such  a  pursuit  as  this,  he  stood  there  in  the 
doorway,  hoping  to  catch  Adam's  eye  and  so  to  ad 
monish  him  silently  for  indulging  even  a  moment's 
whim  at  this  vice. 


378  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  One  thousand  more,"  said  Adam,  somewhat  hotly. 

Sir  William  pricked  up  his  ears  in  amazement. 

"  Lost  again  !"  Rust  exclaimed.  "The  devil  is  in 
the  dice  !  "  His  back  was  toward  the  curtained  door. 
There  was  a  mirror,  however,  directly  across  the  room. 
Watching  the  glass  he  presently  beheld  the  reflection 
of  a  movement,  where  the  tapestry  swayed  behind 
him.  "  Three  thousand  now,  or  nothing  ! "  he  added, 
desperately. 

The  dice  rattled  out  of  the  box  in  the  silence  that 
followed. 

"It's  luck,"  said  Suffle,  scooping  up  the  dice  to 
throw  again. 

"It's  sorcery  !  "  exlaimed  the  rover,  in  evident  heat. 
"  Come,  sir,  I'have  two  thousand  left.  I'll  stake  it  all 
on  a  single  throw  ! " 

Phipps  would  have  interfered,  had  it  been  in  any 
place  but  a  private  house,  where  the  scandal  would 
spread  so  swiftly.  He  twitched  in  nervousness,  as  he 
gripped  the  cane  with  which  he  would  have  liked  to 
knock  the  dice-box  endways. 

The  throw  was  completed. 

"  I'm  done  !  "  said  Rust.  "  I've  nothing  more  to 
stake  !  " 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  Suffle,  tauntingly,  "  play  your 
sword,  your — surely  yon  must  have  something  you 
prize.  What,  no  resources  ?  Must  we  cease  the  play 
so  soon  ?  " 

"  My  sword  ?  No  ! "  said  Adam,  with  temper. 
"  But  stay;  since  you  speak  so  slightingly  of  my  sword, 
I  have  one  more  stake  to  offer." 

a  By  all  means  name  it  and  play." 


A  Woman  Scorned.  379 

"My  stake,  sir,  is  the  Lady  Margaret,"  Adam 
growled  at  him,  angrily.  "Betrothed  to  you,  she 
loves  me  more.  Come,  sir,  stake  me  a  thousand 
against  my  chances  to  win  her  and  take  her  away  from 
you,  heart  and  soul.  A  thousand,  sir,  and  if  you  can 
win  it — your  field  shall  be  open,  you  shall  hear  nor 
fear  no  more  from  me  ! " 

"By  my  faith,"  said  Suffle,  rising,  as  Adam  had 
done,  "  you  hold  this  lady  lightly,  that  you  prattle  of 
her  name  like  this.  Better  I  should  run  you  through, 
for  an  arrant  knave." 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Rust,  "  you  think  more  of  your  win 
nings  than  you  do  of  your  lady.  You  hesitate  and 
scold  over  a  paltry  thousand.  Stake  it,  man,  or  by  my 
troth  I  shall  tell  her  what  valuation  you  put  upon  her 
worth." 

Lady  Margaret's  face  appeared  for  a  second  at  the 
curtain.  It  was  white  with  rage. 

"  You  insult  this  lady  with  your  monstrous  prop 
osition,"  cried  Suffle. 

"  And  you  insult  her  worse,  with  your  parsimony  ! n 
came  the  swift  retort. 

"It  is  calumny  for  you  to  say  she  loves  you ! n 
Suffle  growled. 

"Yet  stake  me,  sir,  or  you  shall  see  me  get  her  and 
laugh  at  your  stinginess,"  Rust  flung  at  him  banter- 
ingly.  "  Come,  sir,  one  more  moment  and  I  withdraw 
the  offer." 

"  Done  !  "  said  Suffle,  "  for  by  'sdeath,  my  fortune 
shall  prove  you  a  liar  !  Throw  the  dice." 

Adam  threw  and  counted.  "  My  luck  has  changed 
at  last,"  he  said,  in  triumph. 


380  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  We  shall  see,"  retorted  Suffie,  and  flinging  the 
dice  he  sat  down  and  roared  with  laughter. 

"Lost!"  said  Adam,  tragically.  "So  be  it.  To 
the  devil  with  you,  sir ;  and  I  wish  you  joy  of  your 
winnings." 

He  strode  from  the  table,  met  Sir  William  Phipps 
at  the  door,  winked  at  him  merrily  and  so  drew  him 
out  in  the  hall. 

"  What's  this  ?  What's  this  ?  "  said  the  Governor, 
excitedly.  ' '  I  come  here  to  see  you,  with  news  on  my 
tongue,  and  find  you — like  this  ! " 

"Tush,  William,"  said  Adam,  laughing  boyishly, 
and  as  cool  as  a  fish.  "  I  was  betting  in  farthings.  I 
must  have  lost  a  hundred.  Did  yon  think  the  luck 
was  all  with  Suffle  ?  " 

"  But,  sir,  this— this  lady  ?  " 

"There  is  more  than  one  way  to  cure  a  woman  of  a 
heart's  distemper,"  said  the  young  man,  cheerfully. 
"  Lady  Margaret  was  just  there,  behind  the  curtain. 
But  this  is  wasting  time.  What  is  your  news  ?  " 

Phipps  looked  at  him  in  wonder,  for  a  moment,  then 
shaking  his  head,  sadly,  he  presently  drew  his  hand 
down  across  his  face,  to  his  double  chin,  as  if  to  wipe 
out  a  smile,  which  had  come  out  of  his  eyes  and  traveled 
all  over  his  countenance. 

"  Adam,"  he  said,  "  they  have  made  me  Governor  of 
the  colony,  and  I  want  you  to  go  home  with  me  to 
Boston." 

Adam  said  nothing,  for  a  moment,  then  he  answered  : 
"Let's  get  out  of  this.  I  want  some  fresher  air  to 
think  it  over  in." 

They  were  soon  walking  out  at  the  gate,  arm  in  arm. 


A  Woman  Scorned.  381 

The  air  was  not  only  fresh,  it  was  bitter  cold.  When 
they  turned  to  go  down  the  street,  Adam  having  first 
looked  about,  without  seeing  what  he  sought,  old  Hal 
berd  issued  from  a  niche,  where  he  had  been  dancing 
to  keep  himself  warm,  and  followed  along  behind  his 
master. 

"  Well,  now  that  you  have  thought  it  over,"  said 
Phipps,  at  last,  "  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

Adam  had  thought  it  over,  from  a  thousand  stand 
points.  The  magnet  at  Boston  had  drawn  him  and 
drawn  him  so  long  that  he  felt  his  whole  soul  was  al 
ready  across  the  Atlantic.  Why  fight  his  longing  any 
further  ?  Why  not  at  least  go  home,  look  the  prop 
osition  in  the  face  and  perhaps  be  disillusionized  ? 

"  I'm  your  man,"  he  said,  as  if  to  catch  himself  be 
fore  he  should  alter  his  mind.  "  When  are  you  sail- 
ing?" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

REVELATIONS. 

WHEN  the  Andros  government  came  to  an  end, 
Edward  Randolph  had  languished  in  jail  for  a  brief  time 
only.  The  Puritans  were  chiefly  angered  at  his  master, 
whom  they  had  finally  put  aboard  a  ship  and  sent  away 
from  the  country.  Thus  the  more  mischievous  spirit, 
and  author  of  many  of  their  wrongs,  escaped  to  work 
his  malignant  will  upon  them  for  years. 

Randolph  was  so  crafty,  so  insidious,  and  willing  to 
remain  so  in  the  background,  that  until  it  was  quite 
too  late  to  redeem  their  position,  the  Puritans  failed 
even  to  suspect  him  of  the  monstrous  iniquities  he  in 
duced  them  to  commit  upon  one  another.  The  witch 
craft  persecutions,  which  he  fastened  upon  them,  had 
not  originated  in  his  brain,  fertile  as  that  organ  was 
for  the  growth  of  things  diabolical.  He  got  his  cue 
from  England,  where  thousands  of  persons  perished, 
at  the  stake  and  otherwise,  convicted  on  fantastic 
testimony  of  practising  arts  that  were  black  and 
mysterious. 

Randolph,  realizing  that  Boston  had  been  made  too 

warm  for  active  operations,  began  his  work  in  Salem. 

That   center   offered  him   exceptional   opportunities. 

The  growth  of  the  dread  disease  was  appalling.     His- 

382 


Revelations.  383 

tory  which  would  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  this 
criminal  fanaticism  should  be  bound  in  charred  human 
skin. 

Boston  was  duly  afflicted  with  the  scourge.  Ran 
dolph  then  returned,  quietly,  and  so  manipulated  his 
work  and  his  dupes,  from  behind  his  own  scenes,  that 
scores  of  old  women  where  charged  with  and  convicted 
of  witchcraft,  in  Randolph's  hope  of  wreaking  his 
vengeance  thus  on  whatsoever  old  woman  it  might  have 
been  who  had  told  Garde  Merrill  of  his  affair  with 
Hester  Hodder.  Having  never  been  able  to  ascertain 
that  this  person  was  Goody  Dune,  he  was  sweeping  his 
net  in  all  waters,  to  make  sure  of  his  prey,  in  the  same 
merciless  spirit  that  Herod  slew  all  the  male  infants, 
to  accomplish  his  terrible  purpose. 

When  Governor  Phipps,  with  Adam  Rust  and  Increase 
Mather,  arrived  at  Boston,  in  the  frigate  "  Nonsuch," 
in  May,  1692,  the  prisons  were  crowded  full  of  witches, 
for  the  smell  of  whose  burning  or  rotting  flesh  scores  of 
fanatical  maniacs  were  clamoring. 

All  Massachusetts  had  known  that  William  Phipps, 
the  Governor  who  had  risen  so  mightily  from  the  ranks 
of  the  working  men  among  them,  was  coming.  The 
name  of  the  lane  wherein  his  house  had  been  built 
was  altered  to  Charter  street,  in  his  honor ;  the  citi 
zens  beat  their  drums  ;  the  disciples  of  gladness  in  the 
stomach  arranged  for  a  banquet ;  the  hordes  marched 
in  joy  and  with  pomp  and  Puritan  splendor,  which 
lacked  nothing  in  ceremony,  as  Sir  William  was  con 
ducted  to  his  house  and  then  to  the  public  dinner. 
Even  the  fanatics  waxed  enthusiastic  and  developed 
symptoms  of  being  yet  more  greatly  pursued  and  be- 


384  Hearts  of  Grace 

witched  by  the  witches  whose  incarceration  they  had 
already  procured. 

In  the  madness,  confusion  and  excess  of  glee,  two 
persons  were  more  inwardly  stirred  than  all  the  others, 
not  by  the  arrival  of  William  Phipps,  but  by  that  of 
Adam  Rust.  One  was  Garde,  to  whose  ears  and  heart 
the  story  of  Adam's  return  came  swiftly  flying.  The 
other  was  Edward  Randolph,  who  saw  an  opportunity 
for  deviltry  for  which  he  had  waited  so  long  that  he  had 
almost  despaired  of  ever  tasting  its  bitter-sweet.  With 
his  own  eyes  he  beheld  Adam  Rust,  and  he  grinned. 

At  the  end  of  that  long,  fatiguing  day,  Rust  retired 
to  the  privacy  of  his  tavern  apartments,  secured  hap 
hazard,  during  one  of  the  moments  less  filled  than  the 
others  with  pressing  events.  Here  he  sat  him  down 
for  the  purpose  of  thinking.  He  wondered  why  he 
had  come  to  Boston  again,  and  what  he  would  do,  now 
that  at  last  he  lived  under  the  same  sky  with  Garde, 
hearing  the  same  sounds  she  was  hearing,  breathing 
the  same  fragrance  of  the  Spring  that  stole  to  her. 
Should  he  try  to  see  her?  Perhaps.  But  to  speak  to 
her — no,  he  thought  he  could  make  no  advance  in  this 
direction.  But  he  could  learn  whether  she  had  mar 
ried,  as  of  course  she  must  have  done,  long  before,  and 
then — well,  something  in  him  ought  to  be  satisfied — 
that  something  which  had  urged  him  so  inexorably  to 
return  and  to  make  this  moment  possible. 

In  the  midst  of  his  reveries,  he  heard  a  knock  upon 
his  door.  It  was  poor  old  Halberd,  doubtless,  who  had 
been  so  forlorn  and  so  ill  on  the  ocean.  He  had  left 
him  asleep,  but,  no  matter,  he  would  be  glad  to  see  him, 
privacy  of  thought  notwithstanding. 


Revelations.  385 

"  Come  in,"  he  said.     "  Come  in." 

The  door  opened,  not  as  Halberd  was  wont  to  per 
form  an  act  so  simple,  and  Adam  was  conscious  that  a 
stranger  had  intruded  upon  him.  He  looked  up, 
winked  his  eyes  and  looked  more  intently,  as  if  abso 
lutely  incredulous  that  he  was  awake  and  sane. 

His  visitor  was  Edward  Randolph. 

"  Mr.  Rust,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again  in  Boston," 
said  the  man,  coming  forward  in  a  tentative  manner 
and  smiling  by  sheer  force  of  effort.  "  You  didn't 
expect  me,  but  I  have  taken  this  early  opportunity  of 
calling,  to  say  I  know  what  a  great  wrong  I  did  you  in 
the  past,  and  to  make  what  reparation  I  can." 

"  The  devil  could  do  no  more,"  said  Adam,  looking 
him  over  calmly.  "  And  I  doubt  if  the  devil  ever  had 
your  impertinence." 

"You  do  me  wrong,"  Randolph  assured  him, 
meekly.  "  I  could  do  no  less  than  to  come  here  and 
tender  what  apologies  I  may,  and  to  do  you  a  small 
favor.  I  was  grossly  misled,  concerning  your  worth 
and  your  courage,  by  spiteful  persons  who  had,  as  I  now 
understand,  some  personal  grudge." 

"  As  I  knew  but  two  men  in  the  town,  when  first  I 
had  the  honor  of  appraising  you  for  a  rascal,"  said 
Adam,  "  your  tale  pleases  me  but  indifferently  well. 
As  for  favors,  I  have  none  to  ask  of  you,  and  none  to 
grant." 

"  Yet,  if  only  in  a  Christian  spirit,"  the  fellow  in 
sisted,  "  you  must  permit  me  to  beg  your  pardon  for 
my  errors  of  the  past.  I  have  long  regretted  my  griev 
ous  mistake  of  judgment,  and  for  that  long  I  have 


386  Hearts  of  Grace 

desired  an  opportunity  of  showing  my  mortification 
and  doing  you  the  one  kindness  in  my  power." 

"  In  the  spirit  of  the  Christian  crusaders,"  said 
Bust,  ' '  I  feel  that  I  could  deny  you  little.  You  would 
do  well,  sir,  to  retire  in  good  order  while  my  indispo 
sition  to  throw  you  through  the  window  is  still  upon 
me." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mr.  Eust,  you  don't  know  what  an 
injury  you  are  doing  to  yourself,"  the  visitor  went  on. 
"  If  you  knew  how  cruelly  we  were  both  wronged, 
almost  at  the  same  time  and  by  the  same  person,  you 
would  listen,  if  only  for  that  one  compassion." 

"  I  have  been  wronged  in  Boston,"  Adam  agreed, 
ominously,  "  and  shatter  my  hilt  if  I  know  why  I  hesi 
tate  to  redress  myself  while  I  may. " 

"  But  I  did  you  no  wrong  to  your  heart,  sir.  Our 
injuries  were  both  of  the  heart,"  Randolph  reiterated, 
persistently.  "Look,  sir,  I  had  a  heart,  six  years  ago, 
and  I  felt  it  cruelly  trampled  under  foot — the  same 
foot  that  trampled  upon  yours,  and  here " 

"  Beware  !  "  Adam  growled.  ' '  I  shall  cut  out  your 
tongue,  for  little  more.  Begone,  sir,  and  thank  your 
God  at  every  step  you  take,  that  you  still  live — if  you 
value  your  life  at  all ;  and  this  I  am  driven  to  doubt." 

"  Here,  here  ! "  replied  Randolph,  nervously,  and 
with  shaking  fingers  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  packet 
of  paper  folded  in  the  form  of  a  letter.  ' '  You  will 
never  believe  me  till  I  show  you  this.  But  I  lay  my 
heart  open — I  expose  my  wounds,  to  prove  how  you 
wrong  me.  Read  it,  read  it — the  letter  she  sent  me — 
and  then  I  shall  be  willing  to  bide  by  your  answer." 

Adam  could  not  fail  to  be  impressed  by  the  man's 


Revelations.  387 

tenacity  of  purpose.  Being  a  just  man,  he  had  a  faint 
suspicion  dart  through  his  head  that,  after  all,  the  man 
might  not  have  known  what  he  was  doing  when  he 
committed  all  his  fiendish  acts,  years  before.  There 
had  never  been  any  sufficient  reason  for  what  he  had 
done,  that  Adam  knew.  He  took  the  letter,  briefly  to 
see  what  it  was  the  fellow  meant  and  wanted. 

He  began  to  read,  and  then  to  feel  that  the  man  had 
obviously  undergone  some  trial,  severe  and  not  readily 
to  be  forgotten.  It  was  Garde's  own  letter  to  himself 
he  was  reading. 

"She  sent  me  that  and  then  broke  my  heart  after," 
said  Randolph,  speaking  in  a  low,  emotional  voice, 
while  Adam  looked  at  the  letter.  "  As  if  she  had  not 
shattered  my  life  sufficiently  before." 

"I'm  sorry  for  you,"  said  Eust,  after  a  moment. 
"  Here,  I  don't  care  to  pry  into  your  letter.  Take  it, 
and  go  in  peace." 

"  But  read  it,  read  it.  You  don't  know  who  wrote 
it,"  said  Randolph,  who  was  white  with  excitement. 
"  I  shouldn't  have  come  to  you  here  with  my  mortify 
ing  apologies,  if  there  had  not  been  a  bond  between 
us." 

Adam  gave  him  a  look,  as  of  one  baffled  by  an  in 
scrutable  mystery.  He  could  not  comprehend  his 
visitor's  meaning.  Then  suddenly  a  flush  leaped  into 
his  face,  as  he  remembered  something  he  had  heard  in 
those  by-gone  days,  when  he  walked  with  that  youth, 
whose  very  name  he  could  not  recall,  from  Plymouth 
to  Boston. 

He  read  the  letter  again  with  a  new  interest,  a  terri 
ble  interest.  He  had  gone  away  from  Garde— sent 


388  Hearts  of  Grace 

away — with  a  stab  in  his  heart,  from  which  he  had 
never  been  able  to  recover.  He  had  thonght  at  first 
she  sent  him  away  as  a  renegade,  a  fugitive  from 
pseud o- justice,  whom  to  have  loved  openly  would  be  a 
disgrace.  He  had  thought  then  that  perhaps  she 
loved  Wainsworth,  or  even  this  Randolph.  He  had 
thought  till  he  nearly  went  crazy,  for  circumstances 
had  compelled  him  to  flee  from  Boston  for  his  life,  and 
therefore  to  flee  from  all  explanations  which  might  have 
been  made.  Garde  having  released  him  from  jail,  he  had 
been  driven  to  think  she  believed  him  innocent.  She 
had  said  she  could  do  no  less.  Then  he  had  been  left 
no  belief  to  stand  on  but  that  of  her  loving  some  one 
else  more  than  she  did  himself.  She  had  admitted 
that  something  had  happened.  Cornered  thus,  he  had 
found  the  case  hopeless,  and  thoughts  of  return  to 
Boston  then  had  seemed  to  him  madness. 

This  letter,  now  in  his  hand,  confirmed  all  those 
more  terrible  thoughts  and  beliefs.  She  had  done  some 
wrong  to  Randolph,  too,  as  she  here  confessed  in  her 
letter.  She  had  believed  some  infamous  story  against 
him,  and  now  prayed  his  forgiveness.  And  what,  in 
God's  name,  had  she  then  added  to  this  first  wrong  to 
the  man,  that  Randolph  now  was  so  bitter  ? 

Terribly  stirred,  he  raced  his  glance  over  the  pages 
and  so  to  the  little  quaintly  affectionate  ending.  Then 
he  read  her  signature,  "  Garde — John  Rosella." 

John  Rosella  ! — the  name  of  that  youth  !  She  ! 
Garde  ! 

He  felt  he  should  suddenly  go  mad.  That  boy  he  had 
so  learned  to  love — had  been  Garde  !  She  had  written 
this  letter — she  had  signed  that  name,  which  meant  so 


Revelations.  389 

much  to  him  and  to  her,  and  so  little  to  any  one 
else  ! 

He  made  a  strange  little  sound,  and  then  he  began 
to  read  the  letter  over  again,  from  the  first,  letting 
every  word,  every  syllable,  sink  into  his  soul  with  its 
comfort  and  its  fragrance  of  love.  He  forgot  that 
Randolph  stood  there  before  him.  He  was  oblivious 
of  everything.  He  was  on  that  highroad  again.  He 
was  standing  with  Garde  in  the  garden  at  midnight, 
her  kisses  still  warm  on  his  lips. 

"  You  see  there  is  a  bond  between  us,"  said  Ran 
dolph. 

Adam  ceased  reading,  galvanically.  But  for  a 
second  he  did  not  raise  his  eyes.  He  folded  the  letter 
and  held  it  in  his  hand.  He  arose  to  his  feet  and 
slowly  moved  between  Randolph  and  the  door. 

"  There  is  a  bond  between  us,"  he  agreed,  speaking 
with  nice  deliberation.  "  It  is  something  more  than 
a  bond.  It's  a  tie  of  blood  and  bone  and  suffering." 

"  I  thought  you  would  see  it,"  said  Randolph. 
"  This  was  all  I  came  to  tell  you, — this,  and  my  sense  of 
having  done  you  wrong." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  see  it,"  said  Adam,  turning  the  key  in  the 
lock  and  putting  it  calmly  in  his  pocket,  "  I  see  it  all 
clearly.  By  the  way,  sir,  who  is  John  Rosella,  if  I  may 
ask  ?  " 

Randolph  had  become  pale.  His  eyes  were  growing 
wild.  He  had  watched  Rust  lock  the  door  with  quak 
ing  dread. 

"John  Rosella?"  he  repeated,  with  a  sickening 
sense  of  having  overlooked  something  important,  which 
he  had  thought  an  insignificant  trifle  ;  "  why,  that  is 


390  Hearts  of  Grace 

merely  the — her  middle  names.  Her  full  name  is 
Garde  John  Kosella  Merrill." 

"  I  trust  you  are  gentleman  enough  to  fight,"  said 
Rust,  placing  the  letter  in  his  pocket,  "for  I  shall  tell 
you,  sir,  that  yon  are  a  liar,  a  scoundrel,  a  murderous 
blackguard." 

Walking  up  to  the  staring  wretch,  calmly,  Adam 
slapped  his  face  till  the  blow  resounded  in  the  room 
and  Halberd  came  hastening  to  the  door  to  know  what 
could  be  the  matter. 

"  I  rang  the  bell,"  said  Rust,  who  opened  the  door 
with  great  deliberation.  "  Bring  a  sword  for  one. 
The  gentleman  wishes  to  fight." 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  said  the  trembling 
coward.  "Give  me  back  my  letter.  I  shall  leave 
this  place  at  once  !  " 

"  Will  you  jump  through  the  window  ? "  Adam 
inquired,  with  mock  concern.  "  Don't  call  that  letter 
yours  again,  or  I  may  not  let  you  off  with  a  mere 
killing." 

Halberd  came  with  his  sword.  Adam  drew  his  own 
good  blade  from  the  battered  scabbard  he  had  always 
retained,  and  looked  at  the  edge  and  the  point,  criti 
cally. 

"  I  refuse  to  fight  you  ! "  said  Randolph,  who  had 
once  seen  that  terrible  length  of  steel  at  play.  "  I 
demand  to  be  released  from  this  place  ! " 

Rust  went  up  and  slapped  him  again.  "  Get  up  just 
manhood  enough  to  raise  that  sword,"  Adam  implored. 
"  Take  it  and  strike  any  sort  of  a  foul  blow  at  me — 
one  of  your  foulest — do  !  you  dog." 

The  craven  tried  to  make  a  run  at  the  door.     Adam 


Revelations.  391 

pushed  him  back  and  kicked  him  again  toward  the 
center  of  the  room. 

"  This  is  murder !  I  refuse  to  fight  with  such  a 
villain  ! "  cried  the  fellow.  "  Let  me  out,  or  I  shall 
call  for  help." 

"  You  wouldn't  dare  to  let  anybody  know  you  are  in 
town,"  said  Rust,  contemptuously.  "  Howl,  do  howl, 
and  let  me  tell  the  public  what  you  are.  Halberd, 
alas,  there  is  no  manhood  in  it.  Therefore  fetch  me 
the  whip  I  saw  in  your  apartments,  for  a  sad  bit  of 
business." 

To  all  of  Randolph's  protests  and  wild  chatterings 
of  fear  and  hatred,  Rust  was  deaf.  He  took  the  whip, 
which  Halberd  presently  brought,  and  proceeded  to  cut 
Randolph  across  the  face,  the  legs,  the  shoulders  and 
the  hands  till  the  craven  smarted  with  a  score  of 
purple  welts. 

"Halberd,  you  may  clean  your  boots  afterward," 
Adam  said  at  last.  (f  Be  good  enough  to  kick  the  dog 
from  the  room." 

Halberd  placed  but  two  of  his  aids  to  departure,  and 
then,  Rust  opening  the  door,  the  craven  flew  madly 
out  and  away,  a  maniac  in  appearance,  an  assassin  in 
his  state  of  mind. 


CHAPTER  X. 

AFTER   SIX  YEARS. 

AT  Grandther  Donner's  house,  Garde  had  passed 
the  day  with  her  heart  -so  fluttering  between  hope  and 
fear  that  she  was  all  unstrung  by  the  time  the  evening 
arrived.  She  could  bear  it  no  longer,  then,  and  with 
a  shawl  on  her  head  she  started  out  to  go  to  the  Soams ' 
to  learn  what  she  might  of  the  many  events  of  the 
hour. 

In  the  garden  she  paused.  The  stillness,  the  calm, 
the  redolence  of  Spring,  burgeoning  into  maidenly 
summer,  brought  back  to  her  mind  that  similar  time, 
six  long  years  before,  when  she  and  Adam  had  met 
here  among  the  flowers,  for  that  brief  time  of  joy. 

The  fire  of  love,  kept  so  sacred  by  the  vestal  virgin 
spirit  of  her  nature,  burned  upward  in  her  cheeks,  as 
warm,  as  ardent  as  ever,  after  these  years  of  her  lonely 
vigil. 

But  would  he  ever  stand  there  again,  in  the  garden  ? 
Would  he  ever  more  clasp  her  hands  on  the  pickets  of 
the  gate  ?  Or  would  he  now  prove  disdainful,  proud 
of  his  friendship  with  the  new  Governor,  aloof  and 
silent,  as  he  had  been  since  she  sent  him  her  letter  ? 

No  matter  what  might  be,  she  so  hungered  to  hear 
some  word  of  his  coming,  some  meager  description  of 
392 


After  Six  Years.  393 

how  he  looked,  some  mere  hearsay  of  how  he  bore 
himself,  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  must  consume  herself 
with  impatience  on  her  way  to  her  uncle's. 

In  the  dusk  which  was  swiftly  descending  on  the 
face  of  the  world,  she  closed  the  gate  behind  her  and 
started  along  the  road,  her  face  so  pale  and  yet  so 
eager,  in  her  yearning,  that  it  was  almost  luminous. 
She  was  presently  conscious  that  some  one,  dimly  visi 
ble,  ahead,  was  rapidly  approaching.  She  drew  her 
shawl  a  little  more  closely  about  her  face  and  quickened 
her  footsteps,  the  sooner  to  pass  this  pedestrian. 

A  metallic  tinkle  came  to  her  ears  and  made  her 
heart  give  an  extra  bound,  she  knew  not  why.  It  had 
simply  sounded  like  a  scabbard,  beating  its  small 
accompaniment  to  sturdy  strides.  She  looked  up, 
timidly,  to  see  who  it  was  that  carried  a  sword  into 
such  a  quiet  part  of  Boston.  Then  she  halted  and 
suddenly  placed  her  hand  out,  to  the  near-by  fence, 
for  a  moment's  support. 

The  man  was  almost  passing  her  by,  whore  she  stood. 
He  halted.  He  made  some  odd  little  sound,  and  then 
he  remained  there,  looking  upon  her,  his  hand  coming 
involuntarily  up  to  his  heart. 

Garde  looked  up  in  his  face,  without  fear,  but  not 
without  sadness,  wistfully — with  the  inquiry  of  six  long 
years  in  her  steadfast  eyes. 

((  Garde,"  said  Adam,  in  a  voice  she  barely  heard, 
"  Garde — I  have — come  home.  I  never  got  your  letter 
till  to-night." 

She  could  not  answer,  for  a  moment. 

"I — have  been  waiting,"  she  then  said,  and  striving 
to  hold  her  lips  from  trembling,  she  let  two  great  tears 


394  Hearts  of  Grace 

trickle  slowly  across  her  face  as  she  still  looked  up  in 
his  eyes. 

There  was  nothing  he  could  say.  He  read  her  whole 
story  of  faithfulness  and  of  suffering,  her  epic  of  a  love 
that  could  not  die,  in  that  one  long  look.  Slowly  he 
went  up  to  her  and  taking  her  face  in  his  hands  he 
kissed  away  the  tears  from  her  cheeks.  He  put  her 
head  gently  against  his  breast  and  let  her  cry. 

She  still  held  to  the  fence,  as  if  she  dared  not  too 
suddenly  lean  on  his  love,  without  which  she  had 
learned  to  live  so  long.  But  gradually,  as  he  held  her 
there,  saying  nothing,  but  softly  kissing  her  hair  and  the 
one  little  hand  he  had  taken  in  his  own,  her  arms  crept 
upward  about  his  shoulders  and  her  heart  beat  against 
his,  in  a  peace  surpassing  anything  of  earth. 

"  My  Garde,"  he  finally  began  to  whisper,  over  and 
over  again,  "my  own  Garde — my  darling,  precious 
Garde." 

"  Oh,  this  may  all  be  wrong,  Adam,"  she  answered 
him,  after  a  time.  "  I  don't  understand  it.  We  don't 
know  what  has  happened,  in  all  these  years.  Oh,  how 
did  you  happen  to  come  ?  " 

"  You  drew  me,  sweetheart,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
made  tremulous  with  emotion.  "  I  have  had  no  peace 
till  now.  I  have  loved  you  so !  I  have  dreamed  of 
you  so  !  But  I  never  knew — till  to-night,  when  I  got 
your  letter." 

"  You — never  got  it  till  to-night  ?  Oh  Adam,"  she 
said.  "Oh,  Adam,  I  have  been  so  punished  for  the 
wrong  I  did.  Oh,  you  can  never,  never  forgive  me  !  " 

"There,  there,  sweetheart,"  he  said  to  her  sooth 
ingly,  letting  her  cry  out  the  sobs  she  had  stifled  so 


After  Six  Years.  395 

vainly.  "  Forgive  you,  dear  ?  You  had  no  need  to 
ask  for  forgiveness — you  who  came  to  me  there  in  that 
jail — you,  whose  sweet  little  motherly  spirit  so  provided 
for  my  poor  old  beef-eaters,  when  they  were  hungry 
and  fleeing  for  their  lives.  Dearest,  I  don't  see  how 
you  did  it,  when  I  was  a  hunted  renegade,  a  fugitive, 
with  doubled  infamies  piled  upon  my  head.  Oh, 
forgive  me,  dear,  that  ever  I  doubted  my  own  little 
mate." 

"No,  I  should  never  have  believed  them — not  all 
the  world  ! "  she  protested.  "  My  Adam.  My 
Adam." 

With  his  strong  arm  about  her,  and  her  head  leaned 
in  confidence  and  love  on  his  shouldor,  he  led  her 
back  to  the  garden,  at  once  the  scene  of  their  joys  and 
tragedies. 

He  enthroned  her  on  the  steps  of  the  porch,  where 
as  a  child  she  had  been  enthroned,  when  he  as  her  boy- 
lover  had  sat,  as  now,  at  her  feet  and  listened  to  the 
dainty  caresses  of  her  voice.  Only  now  he  held  her 
hand  in  his  and  placed  it  on  his  cheek  and  kissed  it 
fondly,  as  he  listened  and  told  her  of  how  he  had  come 
at  last  to  receive  the  letter. 

At  this  she  was  frightened.  She  wanted  to  cradle 
his  head  upon  her  bosom,  now,  and  hold  forth  a  hand 
to  shield  him  from  danger.  She  felt  that  the  perils  for 
them  both  were  clustered  about  his  fearless  head  and 
that  hers  was  the  right  to  protect. 

"  Oh,  please  be  careful,  Adam,  dear,"  she  implored. 
"That  man  is  a  terrible  man.  Oh,  I  wish  you  had  let 
him  go.  Yon  will  be  careful,  dear.  You  must  be 
careful,  and  watchful,  every  moment." 


396  Hearts  of  Grace 

His  reply  was  a  kiss  and  a  boyish  laugh.  Now  that 
he  had  her  once  more,  he  said,  and  now  that  nothing 
should  ever  part  them  again,  his  world  was  complete, 
and  there  were  no  dangers,  nor  evils,  nor  sorrows. 

Then  he  begged  her  to  tell  him  of  the  years  that  had 
passed.  He  petted  her  fondly,  as  she  spoke  of  her 
long,  long  wait.  She  seemed  to  him  thrice  more 
beautiful,  in  the  calm  and  dignity  of  her  womanhood, 
which  had  laid  not  so  much  as  a  faded  petal  on  her 
beauty  and  her  endless  youth. 

He  exchanged  a  history  of  heart-aches,  matching 
with  one  of  his  own  every  pang  she  had  ever  endured. 
There  was  something  ecstatic,  now,  in  the  light  of 
their  new-found  rapture,  in  recounting  those  long  days 
of  sadness  and  despair.  Every  pain  thus  rehearsed 
drew  them  the  closer,  till  their  love  took  on  a  sacred- 
ness,  as  if  suffering  and  constancy  had  wedded  them  long 
before.  Like  parents  who  have  buried  the  children 
they  loved,  they  were  made  subdued  and  yet  more 
truly  fervent,  more  absolute  in  the  divine  passion  which 
held  them  heart  to  heart. 

And  so,  at  last,  when  Garde  was  sure  that  Adam  ought 
to  go,  they  walked  hand  in  hand  to  the  gate  together. 

"  Sweetheart,  let  me  go  outside,  for  a  moment,"  said 
Adam,  quickly  shutting  the  barrier  between  them. 
"Now,  with  your  two  dear  hands  in  mine,  it  is  just  as 
it  was  six  years  ago.  The  night  is  the  same,  your 
beauty  is  the  same,  our  hearts  and  love  are  the  same  as 
before,  and  nothing  has  ever  come  between  us — except 
this  gate." 

He  kissed  her  hands  and  her  sweet  face,  as  he  had 
done  on  that  other  happy  night. 


After  Six  Years.  397 

"  And  we  can  open  the  gate,"  said  Garde,  in  a  little 
croon  of  delight. 

Adam  laughed,  like  the  boy  he  was.  He  flung  open 
the  gate  and  went  inside  and  took  her  in  his  arms, 
kissing  her  upon  the  lips,  rapturously,  time  after  time. 

"  Oh  Garde,  I  love  you  so  ! "  he  said.  "  I  love  you  ! 
I  adore  you,  my  own  little  mate  ! " 

"  I  could  have  waited  fifty  years,"  she  answered  him, 
nestling  close  and  patting  his  hand  as  she  held  it,  in 
excess  of  joy,  to  her  heart.  "  Oh  Adam  !  My  Adam  ! " 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  BLOW  IN"  THE  DARK. 

THE  rover,  so  lost  in  exalted  happiness  that  he  hardly 
knew  where  he  was  going,  when  at  length  he  said  his 
final  good  night  to  Garde,  was  not  aware  that  the  faith 
ful  old  Halberd  finally  fell  into  his  tracks  behind  him 
and  followed  him  off  toward  the  tavern. 

Immensely  relieved  again  to  see  his  master,  whom 
he  had  not  been  able  to  locate  before,  the  old  beef 
eater  was  soon  convinced  that  Adam  was  in  a  mood  the 
like  of  which  had  not  appeared  in  the  family  for  many 
a  day.  He  therefore  glided  silently  after  the  dreamer, 
a  rod  or  so  to  the  rear,  waiting  until  Adarn  should  turn 
about,  as  was  his  wont,  to  bid  him  walk  at  his  side. 

But  to-night  the  Sachem  was  so  thoroughly  engrossed 
with  his  love  and  his  forming  plans,  that  he  completely 
forgot  to  think  of  his  lorn  retinue,  and  therefore  the 
beef-eater  felt  more  alone  and  sad  than  usual.  There 
was  nothing  in  Boston,  save  Adam,  with  which  he 
could  associate  any  thoughts  of  jollier  days.  There 
was  nothing  but  Adam  left  in  the  world,  to  which  to 
devote  the  great  fund  of  affection  and  devotion  in  his 
simple  breast. 

But  he  was  making  no  complaint,  not  even  to  him 
self.  Whatever  the  Sachem  did  was  right.  Nothing 
that  Adam  could  have  done  would  have  driven  him 

398 


A  Blow  in  the  Dark.  399 

away,  nor  have  altered  his  love  by  so  much  as  one  jot. 
All  he  desired  was  the  privilege  of  loving  his  master, 
at  whose  heels  he  would  have  followed,  though  the 
path  led  to  Hell  itself,  and  this  with  never  so  much  as 
a  question,  nor  a  murmur  of  hesitation. 

The  moon  had  been  silvering  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
for  some  time,  and  Adam  and  Halberd  wended  their 
way,  in  their  short  procession,  through  the  deserted 
business  streets  of  the  town.  Masses  of  shadow  lay 
upon  the  sidewalk,  where  Adam  was  striding  buoyantly 
along. 

Within  fifteen  feet  of  him,  and  between  him  and 
Adam,  suddenly  Halberd  heard  a  sound  that  made  him 
halt  where  he  stood.  Three  figures,  their  faces  masked 
with  black  cloth,  ran  out  from  a  deep  doorway,  where 
they  had  crowded  back,  for  concealment,  and  darted 
upon  the  rover,  walking  unconsciously  onward. 

"  Sachem  !  Sachem  ! "  cried  the  beef-eater,  wildly. 

He  darted  forward,  in  time  to  see  Adam  turn  to  re 
ceive  a  stab  in  the  neck  and  a  blow  on  the  head  that 
sent  him  to  earth  before  he  could  even  so  much  as 
raise  a  hand  to  ward  off  his  murderous  assailants. 

Dragging  his  sword  from  his  scabbard  as  he  ran,  old 
Halberd  leaped  frantically  into  the  midst  of  the  three 
asassins,  ready  to  battle  against  any  odds  conceivable, 
in  this  the  climax-moment  of  his  loyalty. 

He  struck  but  a  single  blow,  which  fell  upon  one  of 
the  bludgeons  held  by  the  masked  ruffians.  He 
screamed  out  his  terrible  tocsin  of  anguish  and  rage. 
Then  a  blow  from  behind  him  crushed  in  his  skull  and 
he  fell  across  the  master  he  had  striven  to  serve,  a 
corpse. 


4oo  Hearts  of  Grace 

Waiting  for  nothing  further,  the  three  figures  sped 
away,  down  the  street,  dived  into  the  darkness  of  an 
alley  and  were  gone,  past  all  finding,  when  a  few  star 
tled  citizens  opened  their  windows  or  doors  and  looked 
out  on  the  street  to  see  what  the  awful  cries  of  Halberd 
had  betokened. 

"I  see  something — down  on  the  sidewalk,"  said  the 
voice  of  one  of  the  men.  "  The  lantern,  wife,  the 
lantern  ! " 

"What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?"  called  another,  from 
across  the  way. 

And  others  answering,  that  they  knew  not  what  it 
meant,  or  that  it  had  sounded  like  some  terrible  deed 
being  done,  there  were  presently  half  a  dozen  awed 
men  coming  forth,  when  their  neighbor  appeared  at  his 
door  with  his  light. 

The  black,  still  heap  which  had  been  seen  from  a 
window  smote  them  all  with  horror.  A  dark  stream, 
from  which  the  light  was  suggestively  reflected,  already 
trickled  to  the  gutter.  They  lifted  Halberd  from  the 
second  prostrate  form  and  found  that  Adam  was 
swiftly  bleeding  to  death  from  a  ghastly  wound  in  the 
neck,  from  which  the  life-fluid  was  leaping  out  in 
gushes. 

"  Turn  him  over,  turn  him  over  ! "  commanded 
the  man  with  the  lantern.  "  Run  to  my  house  and 
ask  the  wife  for  everything  to  tie  up  an  artery — ban 
dages,  too ! " 

He  knelt  down  in  the  red  stream.  Digging  his 
fingers  into  the  gaping,  red  mouth  of  the  wound,  he 
clutched  upon  the  severed  artery  with  a  skill  at  once 
brutal  and  sure.  The  gushes  ceased,  almost  entirely. 


A  Blow  in  the  Dark.  401 

Adam's  face,  already  deathly  white,  had  been  turned 
upward. 

"  Saints  preserve  us ! "  said  one  of  the  citizens. 
"  It's  the  bosom  friend  of  the  Governor  !  " 

"Then  we  know  where  to  take  him,  if  he  doesn't 
die  in  spite  of  me,"  said  the  skilful  surgeon  who  had 
pounced  upon  the  wound.  "Look  to  the  other  man 
and  see  if  he  too,  is  bleeding." 

One  of  the  other  men  had  already  loosened  the  col 
lar  about  old  Halberd's  neck.  Another  came  to  assist 
him. 

"  He's  bleeding  a  little,  from  the  back  of  his  head," 
said  he.  "  0  Lord  !  He's  dead  ! " 

The  doctor's  wife  came  running  to  the  place  herself, 
with  her  husband's  case  in  which  he  had  a  score  of 
cunning  tools  and  the  needs  of  his  craft. 

The  good  woman  pushed  the  men  aside  and  with  an 
assurance  and  a  courage  almost  totally  unknown  in  her 
sex,  at  the  time,  in  such  a  case  as  this,  bent  down 
above  the  wounded  man  and  lent  to  her  husband  the 
nimble  fingers  and  the  quick  comprehension  without 
which  he  might  easily  have  failed  to  prevent  that 
deadly  loss  of  blood. 

As  it  was,  Eust  was  at  the  door  of  death.  The  turn 
he  had  made,  when  Halberd  called  out  in  alarm,  had 
saved  him  from  inevitable  death.  The  steel  driven  so 
viciously  into  his  neck,  would  have  severed  the  jugular 
vein  completely  had  he  turned  the  fraction  of  a 
second  less  soon  than  he  did,  or  an  inch  less  far. 

The  blow  on  his  temple  had  glanced,  so  that  half 
the  power,  which  in  the  case  of  Halberd  had  crushed 
in  the  skull  instantly,  had  been  lost,  nevertheless  it 
26 


402  Hearts  of  Grace 

had  served  to  render  him  wholly  unconscious.  There 
fore,  two  hours  later,  when  brave  little  Mrs.  Phipps 
got  him  laid  in  a  clean,  sweet  couch,  he  looked  like 
death,  and  his  heart-beat  was  feeble  and  faintly  flut 
tering  between  mere  life  and  the  Great  Stillness. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ADAM'S  NURSE. 

the  intelligence  of  the  almost  unparalleled 
crime  spread  with  terror  and  awe  in  its  wake  through 
Boston,  in  the  morning,  Garde  heard  it  like  a  knell 
— a  fatality  almost  to  have  been  expected,  when  she 
and  Adam  had  been  at  last  so  happy.  She  did  not 
faint.  Not  even  a  moan  escaped  her  lips.  She  turned 
white  and  remained  white. 

"Grandther,"  she  said  to  the  old  man  who  owed  his 
restoration  to  health  and  almost  complete  soundness 
of  mind  to  her  ministrations,  "  I  am  betrothed  to  this 
friend  of  our  new  Governor's.  I  shall  go  to  attend 
him." 

She  left  her  grandfather  staring  at  her  in  wonder, 
and  with  only  her  shawl  on  her  head,  she  went  to  the 
"  fair  brick  house  "  which  William  Phipps  had  built 
for  his  wife  at  the  corner  of  Salem  and  Charter  streets 
in  the  town. 

"I  am  betrothed  to  Adam  Rust,"  she  repeated, 
simply.  st  I  have  come  to  attend  him." 

As  if  poor  Garde  had  not  already,  in  six  years  of 
waiting  and  hoping  and  vain  regrets,  sufficiently  suf 
fered  for  a  moment's  lack  of  faith  in  her  lover,  the  an 
guish  now  came  upon  her  in  a  flood  tide.  Adam  no 
sooner  recovered  a  heart-beat  strong  enough  to  give 
403 


404  Hearts  of  Grace 

promise  of  renewed  steadiness,  than  he  lapsed  from  his 
unconscious  condition  into  one  of  delirium. 

Had  Garde  been  wholly  in  ignorance  of  his  past  and 
his  life  of  many  tragedies,  she  would  have  been  doomed 
to  learn  of  all  of  it  now.  He  lived  it  all  over,  a  hun 
dred  times,  and  told  of  it,  brokenly,  excitedly,  at  times 
with  sallies  of  witty  sentences,  but  for  the  most  part  in 
the  sighs  with  which  his  life  had  filled  his  heart  to  over 
flowing,  but  to  which  he  had  never  before  given  utter 
ance. 

She  knew  now  what  the  boy  had  suffered  when  King 
Philip,  the  Sachem  of  the  Wampanoags,  was  slain, 
with  the  people  of  his  nation.  She  felt  the  pangs  he 
had  felt  when,  on  first  returning  to  Boston,  he  had  be 
lieved  himself  supplanted  in  Garde's  affections  by  his 
friend  Henry  Wainsworth.  She  heard  him  croon  to 
the  little  Narragansett  child,  as  he  limped  again 
through  the  forest.  And  then  she  sounded  the  depths 
of  a  man's  despair  when  the  whole  world  and  the  woman 
he  loves  drive  him  forth,  abased. 

Yet  much  as  she  suffered  with  him  in  this  long  re 
hearsal  of  his  heartaches,  there  was  still  one  little  con 
solation  to  her  soul. 

The  one  name  only  that  he  spoke,  and  spoke  again 
and  again,  in  murmurs  of  love  and  in  heart-cries  of 
agony,  was — Garde. 

Having  acquired  her  skill  in  the  harsh  school  where 
her  grandfather's  illness  had  been  the  master,  Garde 
could  almost  have  rejoiced  in  this  reparation  she  was 
making  to  Adam  for  what  she  had  contributed  to  his 
pangs  in  the  past,  had  it  not  been  that  his  hovering  so 
at  the  edge  of  death  frightened  all  other  emotions  than 


Adam's  Nurse.  405 

alarm  from  her  breast.  Nevertheless  she  believed  he 
would  live.  He  could  not  die,  she  insisted  to  herself, 
while  she  gave  him  a  love  so  vast  and  so  sustaining. 

This  feeling  was  fairly  an  instinct.  And  the  truth 
in  which  it  was  grounded  came  struggling  to  the  fore, 
one  morning,  when  Adam  opened  his  eyes,  after  his 
first  refreshing  sleep,  and  laughed  at  her  gayly,  if  a 
little  weakly,  to  see  her  there,  bending  down  above  him. 

"John  Rosella,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  dreaming 
of  you — the  sweetest  boy  that  ever  lived." 

"Oh,  Adam/'  said  Garde,  suddenly  crimsoning. 
"  Oh — now  you — you  mustn't  talk.  You  must  go  back 
to  sleep  at  once." 

Adam  was  drowsy,  despite  himself.  "  I  remember 
— every  word — we  said,"  he  murmured,  "  and  every — 
look  of  your  sweet — sweet  face."  And  then  he  fell 
again  into  peaceful  slumber. 

Arrived  so  far  as  this  toward  recovery,  he  made 
rapid  progress.  Healthy  and  wholesome  as  he  was, 
sound,  from  habits  of  clean,  right  living,  he  mended 
almost  too  fast,  according  to  Garde's  ideas  of  con 
valescence,  for  she  feared  he  would  rise  in  revolt,  over 
soon,  and  do  himself  an  injury  by  abandoning  care 
and  comfort  before  she  could  pronounce  him  quite 
himself. 

In  reality  there  had  been  but  little  more  than  his  loss 
of  blood  to  contend  with,  save  that  his  state  of  mind 
had  engendered  a  fever,  as  a  result  of  all  he  had  un 
dergone,  so  that  when  this  latter  was  allayed  and 
the  wound  in  his  neck  was  healing  with  astonishing 
rapidity,  his  strength  came  back  to  his  muscles  and 
limbs  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Therefore,  despite  her 


406  Hearts  of  Grace 

solicitude,  Garde  was  soon  happy  to  see  him  again  on 
his  feet  and  making  his  way  about  the  house,  his  face 
a  little  wan  and  white,  but  the  twinkle  in  his  eye  as 
merry  as  the  light  in  a  jewel. 

He  could  furnish  no  accurate  or  reliable  information 
as  to  whom  his  murderous  assailants  had  been.  He 
could  only  conjecture  that  Eandolph  had  been  at  the 
bottom  of  the  affair,  from  motives  of  vengeance.  This 
was  the  truth.  But  the  disappearance  of  Eandolph 
from  Boston  was  reckoned  so  variously,  as  having  taken 
place  anywhere  from  two  days  to  three  years  before, 
that  nothing  could  be  reliably  determined. 

Moreover,  it  sufficed  for  Adam  and  Garde  that  they 
were  here,  in  the  land  of  the  living,  together,  and 
though  it  made  the  rover  feel  sad  to  think  of  the  loss  of 
his  last  beef -eater,  the  faithful  old  Halberd. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

GOODY  IN  THE  TOILS. 

THE  worthy  Puritan  citizens  of  Boston  f6ted  Gov 
ernor  Phipps  in  one  breath  and  asked  him  to  make 
concessions  of  his  powers  to  his  council  in  the  next. 
They  worked  themselves  weary  with  enthusiasm  over 
his  advent  and  then  they  wore  him  out  with  exactions, 
with  their  epidemic  of  persecuting  witches  and  with 
the  faults  they  found  with  his  methods  of  life  and 
government. 

Sir  William  had  not  been  long  in  his  new  harness, 
when  he  was  heard  to  wish  he  again  had  his  broadax 
in  hand  and  were  building  a  ship  of  less  dimensions 
than  one  of  state.  A  little  of  his  old  love  for  his  call 
ing  and  the  men  it  had  gathered  about  him  was  expressed 
in  a  dinner  which  he  gave  to  ship-carpenters,  -from 
whose  ranks  he  was  proud  to  have  risen,  as  he  told  them 
and  told  the  world.  He  had  a  hasty  temper,  as  a  result 
of  having  been  so  long  a  captain  on  the  sea,  accustomed 
to  absolute  obedience  at  the  word  of  command.  Yet 
his  squalls  of  anger  were  soon  blown  over,  leaving  him 
merry,  honest  and  lovable  as  before. 

Unfortunately  Governor  Phipps  was  largely  under 
the  influence  of  increase  Mather  and  his  son,  the 
Reverend  Cotton  Mather,  who  were  both  as  mad  fanat 
ics  on  the  topic  of  religion  and  withcraft  as  one  could 

407 


408  Hearts  of  Grace 

have  found  in  a  day's  walk.  The  influence  over 
Phipps  had  been  gained  by  the  elder  Mather  in 
England,  where  he  and  Sir  William  were  so  long  asso 
ciated  in  their  efforts  to  right  their  colony  and  its 
charter. 

Witchcraft  persecutions,  having  fairly  run  amuck  in 
England,  Increase  Mather  had  enjoyed  exceptional  op 
portunities  for  observing  the  various  phenomena  de 
veloped  by  this  dreadful  disease.  He  arrived  in  Boston 
after  Eandolph  had  succeeded  far  beyond  the  dreams 
of  his  own  malice  in  starting  the  madness  on  its  terri 
ble  career.  The  field  offered  an  attraction  not  to  be 
withstood,  by  either  of  the  Mathers.  They  were  soon 
fairly  gorging  themselves  on  the  wonders  of  the  invisi 
ble  world,  testimonies  and  barbarous  punishments. 

Lieutenant-Governor  Stoughton  was  an  active  figure 
in  all  this  lamentable  business.  Phipps  was  dragged 
into  the  maelstrom  bodily.  He  pitied  the  frightened 
wretches  in  the  prisons  and  secretly  instructed  his 
jailers  to  be  remiss  in  their  duties  of  chaining,  ironing 
and  otherwise  inflicting  needless  punishment  on  these 
helpless  mortals. 

The  more  effectually  and  quietly  to  turn  the  fear 
ful  tide,  so  appallingly  engulfing  the  minds  of  the 
wrought-up  populace,  Phipps  organized  a  court  of 
Oyer  and  Terminer,  wherein  he  sat  himself,  with  seven 
magistrates,  to  try  the  wretched  old  women,  dragged 
screaming  to  the  farcical  examinations.  At  these 
trials,  devilish  children  swore  away  the  lives  of  fellow- 
creatures,  abandoned  alike  by  their  kind  and  by  their 
God.  In  this  court  of  his  own  making,  William  Phipps 
was  slowly  and  surely  putting  a  stop  to  the  mania,  for 


Goody  in  the  Toils.  409 

the  horrors  of  some  of  the  executions  sent  a  thrill  of 
fright  and  dread  through  the  whole  of  Boston. 

Exercising  his  power  of  pardoning,  and  then  expend 
ing  his  own  money  to  assist  them  to  flee  from  the 
state,  William  Phipps  saved  so  many  defenseless 
women  that  he  fairly  broke  the  fabric  of  the  awful 
mania  in  twain.  Early  after  his  arrival,  however,  he 
was  called  away  to  Plymouth.  No  sooner  was  his  back 
turned  than  the  zealots  pounced,  tooth  and  nail,  upon 
a  new  crop  of  witches  and  hailed  them  before  the 
court,  on  trial  for  their  lives,  in  haste  before  the  Gov 
ernor  should  return  to  work  his  leniency  upon  them. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Garde,  having  exhausted 
the  small  supply  of  simples  possessed  by  herself  and 
Goodwife  Phipps,  went  to  Goody  Dune's  and  there 
witnessed  the  work  of  a  witch-hunting  mob. 

It  was  a  warm,  summery  morning,  fit  jewel  for  the 
year's  diadem  of  things  beautiful.  Cries,  yells,  of  pre 
tended  fear,  and  harsh,  discordant  prayers,  screamed 
into  the  air,  assailed  Garde's  ears  before  she  could  yet 
see  the  little  flower-surrounded  hut  where  Goody  lived. 
She  felt  a  sudden  misgiving  strike  through  her  heart 
as  she  hastened  onward. 

She  came  upon  the  scene  in  a  moment.  Nearly  fifty 
men  and  boys,  with  a  sprinkling  of  mere  girls  and  one 
or  two  women,  were  storming  the  small  stronghold  of 
the  old  wise  woman,  who  had  done  so  much  for  those 
afflicted  by  ailments  and  troubles.  Indeed  in  the 
crowd  there  were  many  citizens  who  had  blessed  her 
name  and  the  wisdom  by  which  she  had  mended  their 
bodily  woes.  But  all  now  were  mad  with  excitement. 
Some  were  purposely  frothing  at  the  mouth.  A  dozen. 


410  Hearts  of  Grace 

leaped  frantically  about,  declaring  they  were  being 
pinched  and  bitten  by  the  demons  that  Goody  was 
actuating  to  malice.  Young  boys  slily  put  nails  and 
pins  in  their  mouths  and  then  spat  them  forth,  to  show 
what  evils  were  then  and  there  being  perpetrated  upon 
them. 

The  tidy  little  garden  was  trampled  to  pitiable 
wreckage  of  flowers  and  vines.  The  house  was  being 
boldly  entered  by  a  few  lusty  knaves,  with  Psalms 
Higgler  and  Isaiah  Pinchbecker  in  their  midst. 
Sounds  of  wild  beating,  upon  the  pans  and  kettles 
inside,  made  half  the  assembled  people  turn  pale  with 
self-induced  fear,  which  they  loved  to  experience. 

Suddenly  Goody's  old  black  cat  came  bounding  forth. 
The  men,  boys  and  women  fell  down  in  affright, 
screaming  that  the  devil  was  upon  them.  To  add 
to  their  horror  and  superstitious  dismay,  the  jackdaw, 
Hex,  came  flying  out.  He  perched  for  a  moment  on 
the  ridge  and  then  circled  once  or  twice  about  the 
house.  He  was  wounded,  for  the  ruffians  in  the  cottage 
had  beaten  him  savagely,  with  sticks  and  whips.  He 
was  bedraggled  ;  for  they  had  thrown  water  upon  him. 
His  feathers  were  all  awry.  He  was  altogether  a  sorry 
spectacle. 

"  B-u-h-h— -it's  cold,"  called  the  bird.  "  Fools,  fools, 
fools  ! "  and  flapping  his  ragged  wings  so  that  they 
clapped  against  his  sides  as  he  flew,  he  started  straight 
for  the  woods  and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

If  the  witch-hunters  had  been  smitten  with  delight 
ful  fear  before,  they  were  appalled  by  this  terrible 
bird.  They  fell  down  upon  their  knees  and  wept  and 
prayed  and  made  a  thousand  and  one  mysterious  signs 


Goody  in  the  Toils.  411 

by  which  evil  could  be  averted.  Those  who  knew  in 
their  hearts  that  the  whole  thing,  up  to  this,  had  been 
humbug  and  fraud,  now  quaked  with  a  fear  that  was 
genuine.  The  devil  himself  had  said  some  horrible, 
unthinkable  rigmarole  which  would  doubtless  cast 
a  spell  upon  them  such  as  they  would  never  be  rid  of 
again  in  their  lives.  Their  children  would  be  born 
with  fishes'  tails,  with  asses'  legs,  with  seven  heads. 
Above  the  wails  of  anguish,  which  arose  on  the  air, 
came  the  shouts  of  the  captors  of  Goody  Dune.  They 
were  now  seen  dragging  her  forth  with  hooks,  which 
were  supposed  to  insulate  the  operator  from  the  evils 
which  a  witch  could  otherwise  pronounce  upon  her 
enemies  with  dire  and  withering  effect.  And  then  it 
was  seen  what  the  shouting  of  triumph  was. 

Each  of  the  captors  bore  a  Bible  in  his  hand  from 
which  he  read,  haphazard,  at  the  top  of  his  voice  as  he 
walked,  thus  disinfecting  himself,  or  fumigating  him 
self,  as  it  were,  to  prevent  him  from  catching  the  evil 
which  was  hovering  about  the  witch,  like  an  aureole  of 
dangerous  microbes  of  the  devil's  own  breeding. 

No  sooner  did  old  Goody's  well-known  form  appear 
than  the  fanatics  in  the  garden  fled  in  a  panic  for  the 
gate,  howling  and  wailing  their  prayers  more  loudly 
than  before,  but  pushing  and  jostling  one  another  and 
falling  endways,  as  they  tried  to  run  and  to  look  be 
hind  them  at  the  same  time.  They  must  see  every 
thing,  whatever  the  cost. 

The  men  were  seen  to  be  armed  with  pitchforks. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  a  weapon  which  your 
devil  so  abhors  as  a  pitchfork,  in  the  hands  of  any  one 
save  himself. 


412  Hearts  of  Grace 

This  noisy,  mad  procession  moved  in  great  disorder 
out  into  the  highway,  where  Garde  had  paused,  dis 
mayed  and  concerned  for  Goody.  She  saw  the  wise 
old  woman  walking  calmly  along  with  her  captors,  for 
Goody,  unlike  the  witches  of  lesser  wisdom,  knew  too 
much  to  cry  out  wild  protests  against  this  infamy,  and 
so  to  convict  herself  of  uttering  curses,  spells  and 
blasphemies  on  the  public  roads.  She  looked  about 
her,  at  men  and  women  she  had  relieved  of  pains,  and 
at  children  whose  early  ailments  she  had  exorcised  with 
her  simples. 

They  were  all  now  possessed  of  the  devil,  in  good 
faith,  for  the  mad  capers  they  cut  to  show  that  Goody 
was  all  potent  to  produce  the  most  fiendish  and  heinous 
results  upon  them  could  only  have  been  invented  out 
of  the  sheer  deviltry  which  is  one  of  the  component 
parts  of  the  human  animal. 

Helpless,  terrified  by  these  maniacs  about  her,  Garde 
could  only  lean  against  the  fence  and  hold  her  place 
while  the  running,  neck-twisting  people  went  by. 

"  Oh,  poor  dear  Goody,"  she  murmured  to  herself, 
involuntarily. 

The  old  wise  woman  looked  across  the  bank  of  bob 
bing  heads  about  her  and  half  smiled,  in  a  weary,  hope 
less  manner  that  sent  a  pang  straight  to  Garde's  heart. 
She  knew  that  Goody  was  saying,  "  Never  mind  me, 
dear,"  and  this  only  made  it  all  the  more  unendur 
able. 

Goody  had  been  hustled  by  in  a  moment.  The  dust 
arose  from  the  scurrying  feet.  The  hobble-de-hoy 
pageant  went  rapidly  toward/the  town,  its  numbers  being 
momentarily  augumented,  as  fresh  persons  heard  the 


Goody  in  the  Toils.  413 

disturbance  rising  and  coming  near,  on  the  summer 
air,  and  joined  the  throng. 

Unwilling  to  let  her  friend  be  conveyed  thus  away 
without  her  even  knowing  where  she  was  now  to  be 
taken,  Garde  followed  the  last  of  the  stragglers,  and  so 
saw  the  crowd  become  a  mob,  in  the  more  populous 
streets  of  the  town,  and  finally  beheld  Goody  hurried 
to  one  of  the  prisons  and  shut  out  of  sight  behind  the 
doors. 

The  jail  was  tho  one  into  which,  six  years  before, 
Adam  Bust  had  been  so  infamously  thrown. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


NEARLY  as  strong  and  well  as  ever,  Adam  Rust 
heard  Garde's  excited  and  desperate  tale  of  Goody's 
capture  with  an  indignation  which  far  outran  her  own. 
He  failed  to  realize,  at  first,  the  full  import  of  Goody's 
position.  Then,  as  Garde  made  him  understand  the 
almost  inevitable  execution,  staring  this  old  woman- 
friend  in  the  face,  at  the  end  of  a  trial  from  which 
Truth  would  fly  moaning,  with  her  hands  to  her  ears, 
the  rover  would  have  buckled  on  his  sword  and  gone  to 
batter  down  the  jail  to  set  the  old  wise-woman  free, 
had  his  sweetheart  not  restrained  him  with  all  her 
powers  of  dissuasion. 

"  Oh,  we  have  got  to  be  far  more  clever  than  that," 
she  said.  ' ( We  have  got  to  get  her  out  of  there 
quietly — so  quietly  that  we  can  get  her  away — a  long 
way  off,  before  the  awful  crowds  shall  find  it  out. 
Help  me  to  do  this.  Help  me  to  get  her  out  cunningly, 
or  we  shall  fail — and  to-night  it  will  all  be  too  late." 

"  Couldn't  the  Governor  pardon  her  out  ? "  said 
Adam.  "  Why  has  he  gone  away  at  such  a  time  ? 
Here,  couldn't  Mrs.  Phipps  write  a  pardon  ?  We 
could  take  it  to  the  jailer,  and  try  him.  If  he  then 
refused  to  release  our  friend,  we  could  try  with  a  little 
gold  in  his  hand.  Mrs.  Phipps — Mrs.  Phipps,"  he 
called  to  the  Captain's  wife. 
414 


Garde's  Subterfuge.  415 

The  plump  little  woman  would  have  done  anything 
on  earth  for  Adam — her  boy — and  for  Garde,  whom 
she  loved  no  less,  but  she  shook  her  head  at  this  new 
proposal.  The  potentialities  of  the  position  in  which 
William's  sudden  elevation  had  placed  her  still  gave 
her  a  little  fright  to  contemplate.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  powers  of  a  Governor,  still  less  of  those  of  a 
Governor's  wife. 

"  I  would  be  glad  to  do  this  thing,  dear  Adam, "she 
said,  ' (  for  your  sake,  or  Garde's,  or  even  for  old  Goody 
herself,  but  can  I  ?  Would  I  dare  ?  I  fear  you  hardly 
know  the  temper  of  these  people  on  this  question  of 
witches.  They  are  mad." 

"  Try  it,"  said  Adam.  "  We  can  do  no  less  than  to 
give  it  a  trial.  The  jailer  will  know  of  no  reason  for 
limiting  the  Governor's  prerogatives,  nor  even  those  of 
his  good  wife.  Write  what  I  shall  dictate,  and  let  us 
make  the  attempt.  A  bit  of  boldness  is  often  as  good 
as  an  army." 

Never  able  to  resist  when  Adam  begged  or  even  sug 
gested,  Goodwife  Phipps  wrote,  as  he  directed,  one  of 
the  most  sweeping  and  imperious  pardons  ever  reduced 
to  cold  language.  This  being  duly  sanded,  and  ap 
proved,  Eust  folded  it  up  and  placed  it  safely  in  his 
pocket. 

"Now  then,  John  Rosella,"  he  said  to  Garde,  who 
blushed  prettily,  in  spite  of  her  many  conflicting  emo 
tions,  "  even  supposing  this  works  its  charm,  we  have 
only  then  made  a  good  beginning.  I  must  have  a 
horse  on  which  to  convey  old  Goody  out  of  the  reach 
of  harm,  when  they  find  she  has  slipped  between  their 
fingers.  And  the  horse  must  be  my  own.  No  more 


4*6  Hearts  of  Grace 

borrowed  horses  will  do  for  me.  Therefore  content 
your  mind,  sweetheart,  while  I  go  forth  to  make  my 
needed  purchases." 

He  kissed  her,  while  Goodwife  Phipps  bustled  off 
importantly  about  her  duties,  and  reassuring  her  that 
all  should  yet  be  well  for  Goody,  he  went  out  into  the 
glorious  sunlight,  and  felt  his  old-time  vigor  spring 
forward — from  the  warmth  and  the  joyousness  of 
Nature — to  meet  him. 

But  the  matter  of  finding  a  horse  in  Boston  was  not 
one  to  be  disposed  of  lightly.  He  hunted  far  and  wide, 
for  of  those  which  were  offered  for  sale,  many  were 
old,  a  few  were  lame  and  others  were  vicious.  These 
latter  he  would  have  liked,  for  himself,  since  they 
challenged  him,  their  spirit  against  his,  but  foregoing 
the  pleasant  anticipation  of  a  battle  royal,  he  rejected 
offers  right  and  left,  until  he  had  used  up  the  morning 
completely,  and  at  length  felt  obliged  to  be  satisfied 
with  a  somewhat  undersized  bay,  who  nevertheless 
seemed  strong  and  otherwise  fit  for  the  business  in 
hand. 

Garde  in  the  meantime  had  grown  nervous  with  im 
patience,  afraid  as  she  was,  of  one  of  those  swift,  in 
human  trials  of  Goody  which  so  often  were  the  sub 
terfuges  of  the  fanatics  for  rushing  a  person  pre- 
condemned,  to  the  death  from  which  there  was  no 
escape. 

"  I  have  thought  the  matter  over  calmly,"  said  Adam, 
who  knew  nothing  of  real  calmness  in  a  moment  of  dar 
ing,  "and  I  feel  certain  we  shall  double  our  chances  of 
success  by  waiting  till  dark,  or  near  it,  when  the  jailer 
might  be  persuaded  to  think  we  could  get  her  away  un- 


Garde's  Subterfuge.  417 

noticed  by  the  rabble,  and  so  might  consent  to 
the  plan,  when  otherwise  he  would  think  he  must 
refuse. 

There  was  reason  in  this,  as  Garde  could  see. 
Making  Adam  promise  to  take  a  rest,  before  the  time 
should  be  ripe  for  their  enterprise,  she  went  home  to 
David  Donner,  to  set  things  to  rights,  and  otherwise 
to  keep  abreast  of  her  little  housewifely  duties.  She 
found  the  old  man  excited,  by  a  call  which  had  come 
for  his  services,  at  noon. 

One  of  the  seven  magistrates  who  sat  in  the  court  of 
Oyer  and  Terminer,  to  try  the  witches,  had  fallen  ill. 
David  had  been  requested  to  assume  his  place.  At 
this  wholly  unexpected  news,  Garde  felt  her  heart  leap 
with  a  sudden  rejoicing.  If  the  worst  came,  Goody 
would  have  at  least  one  friend  at  the  trial,  to  whose 
words  of  wisdom  the  Council  had  so  frequently  listened. 
She  ran  to  the  old  man  and  gave  him  a  kiss. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,  dear  Grandther,"  she  said. 
"  They  know  how  wise  you  are  and  jnst ! " 

"Thankee,  child,  thankee,"  said  the  white-haired 
old  man,  smiling  with  the  pleasure  which  the  whole 
transaction  had  excited  in  his  hungering  breast. 
"  They  recognize  me — a  little — at  last." 

Yet  so  eager  had  the  girl  become,  and  so  frightened 
of  what  the  results  were  almost  certain  to  be,  if  Goody 
ever  came  to  her  trial,  during  the  absence  of  Governor 
Phipps,  that  she  and  Adam  were  hastening  off  to  the 
jail  the  moment  the  twilight  began  to  descend  on  the 
town. 

"Jailer  Weaver  owes  me  some  little  favor,"  she  said 
as  they  came  to  the  place,  "  and  he  really  owes  a  great 
27 


41 8  Hearts  of  Grace 

deal  to  Goody."  Her  voice  was  shaking,  her  teeth 
felt  inclined  to  chatter,  so  excited  was  all  this  business 
making  her  feel. 

Vivid  recollections  of  those  terrible  moments  in 
which  she  had  come  to  see  Mrs.  Weaver  and  then  had 
hovered  about  the  prison,  to  liberate  Adam,  made  her 
cling  to  his  arm  in  terror  of  what  they  were  now  about 
to  attempt. 

Adam  himself,  wondering  if  the  jailer  would  by  any 
chance  remember  his  face,  and  the  break  he  and  the 
poor  old  beef-eaters  had  made,  had  the  boldness  and 
the  love  of  adventure  come  surging  up  in  his  heart, 
till  he  petted  the  hilt  of  his  sword  with  a  clenching 
fist. 

They  entered  at  the  door  of  that  portion  of  the 
prison  building  where  the  Weavers  made  their  resi 
dence,  as  this  would  excite  no  suspicion  on  the  part 
of  the  few  pedestrians  in  the  street.  The  nature 
of  their  business  being  partially  secret,  they  chose  to 
interview  the  jailer  in  the  room  which  answered  for  his 
parlor. 

Weaver  was  a  man  who  constantly  raised  and  lowered 
his  eyebrows — a  habit  he  had  gained  through  years  of 
alternately  scowling  at  his  guests  and  then  looking 
puzzled  or  surprised  that,  being  so  innocent  as  they 
always  were,  they  should  still  be  brought  to  such  a 
place.  He  listened  to  Adam's  flowery  and  courtly  ad 
dress,  in  which  he  announced  the  advent  of  Goody's 
pardon,  with  at  least  a  hundred  of  these  eyebrow  con 
tortions. 

"  But  the  Governor  never  pardons  before  a  trial/' 
he  said.  "  Else,  how  should  he  know  but  what  he 


Garde's  Subterfuge.  419 

was  pardoning  a  very  guilty  person  indeed  ?  If  he  had 
pardoned  her,  or  if  he  will  pardon  her,  after  the  trial, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  give  her  freedom,  poor  soul.  But 
you  see  she  hasn't  even  been  tried,  and  moreover  this 
pardon  comes  from  the  Governor's  good  lady." 

Garde's  heart  sank.  The  man  was  so  unanswerably 
logical. 

"  But,  my  good  man,"  said  Adam,  "  I  tell  you  this 
would  be  the  Governor's  pleasure.  And  the  Governor 
stands  in  the  shoes  of  the  King,  in  matters  of  grave 
importance.  Now  call  in  any  one  and  ask  if  I  am  not 
the  Governor's  friend — his  secretary,  indeed." 

"  I  know  your  face,"  said  Weaver,  who  remembered 
Adam  well  enough,  as  a  former  guest  of  the  house,  but 
who  chose  to  say  nothing  on  delicate  subjects.  "  I 
saw  you  with  Sir  William  the  day  he  landed.  Oh, 
aye,  you  are  his  friend,  I  know  that  well.  But " 

"Good!"  Adam  interrupted.  "Then,  the  Gov 
ernor — who  stands,  mind  you,  in  the  King's  shoes,  in 
this  matter,  is  away.  I,  being  his  friend,  for  the  mo 
ment  take  his  place.  Therefore  I  stand  in  the  King's 
shoes  myself,  and  I  desire  this  woman's  pardon  ! 
Bring  forth  your  ink,  and  I  shall  add  my  signature  to 
the  document,  in  the  King's  name." 

Weaver  was  bewildered.  This  reasoning  was  as  clear 
as  a  bell,  yet  he  knew  what  the  angry  mobs  would  soon 
be  demanding  from  his  stronghold. 

"  But— but  there  can  be  no  pardon,  as  I  said,  till 
after  trial,"  he  stammered. 

"  What !  "  said  Bust  striding  back  and  forth,  while 
Garde  looked  on  and  trembled,  "do  you  refuse  to 
obey  your  King  ?  " 


420  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Oh,  sir,  alas,  no,"  said  the  jailer.  "  But  what  can 
I  do?" 

"Do?  Do?  My  friend,  do  you  value  your  daily 
bread  ?  Do  you  wish  to  retain  your  office  ?  Or  shall 
the  Governor  grant  your  dismissal  ?  " 

This  was  touching  the  man  on  a  spot  where  he  could 
endure  no  pressure.  He  quailed,  for  he  found  himself 
between  the  devil — as  represented  by  the  fanatical 
spirit  of  the  mob — and  the  deep  sea  into  which  the  loss 
of  his  place  would  plunge  him  at  once. 

"  Oh,  don't  turn  me  out  ! "  he  begged,  convinced 
well  enough  of  Adam's  power  with  the  Governor.  "  I 
would  do  anything  to  please  you,  sir,  and  I  have  done 
much  already  to  please  the  Governor.  I  am  an  old 
man,  sir,  and  we  have  saved  nothing,  and  we  know  no 
other  trade,  and  many  people  hate  us.  There  would 
be  no  place  for  me  and  mine.  Do  not  turn  us  away 
for  this." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  turn  you  away,"  said  Adam.  "  I 
merely  ask  you  to  release  this  woman." 

"She  has  never  done  any  harm,"  put  in  Garde. 
"  She  has  been  very  good  to  your  wife  and  you.  Surely 
you  could  spare  her  this." 

"  I  would,  Miss,  I  would,"  said  the  wretched  man. 
"I  am  sick  to  death  of  this  terrible  craze  of  witches, 
but  what  can  I  do  ?  If  I  do  not  release  her,  I  shall 
lose  my  place  and  starve.  If  I  do  let  her  go,  I  shall 
have  all  the  mobs  down  upon  me,  when  they  find  there 
is  no  witch  for  trial.  How  can  I  show  them  a  paper, 
instead  of  a  prisoner  ?  My  life  might  pay  the  for 
feit." 


Garde's  Subterfuge.  421 

"  Oh,  Adam,  this  is  terrible,"  said  Garde.  "  What 
can  we  do  ?  " 

"  After  trial,  you  can  surely  get  her  pardoned,"  the 
man  insisted.  "  You  have  the  power.  You  can  save 
her  then." 

"  Oh,  they  will  never  wait  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  They 
may  try  her  to-night,  and  find  her  guilty  and  hang  her 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning  ! " 

Weaver  turned  pale.  He  knew  that  what  she  said 
might  in  all  probability  be  true. 

"  But  I  cannot  give  them  a  bit  of  paper  instead  of  a 
prisoner,"  he  repeated.  "  If  you  will  bring  me  some 
one  else,  who  will  vouch  for  the  mob's  respect  of  your 
pardon,  as  you  vouch  for  the  Governor " 

"  We've  got  to  have  her,"  interrupted  Adam.  "  You 
can  say  she  escaped,  by  her  power  of  witchcraft.  Re 
lease  her,  or  look  your  last  on  these  cheerful  walls." 

"  Oh,  but,  Adam,"  said  Garde,  "  why  should  we  make 
such  misery  and  trouble  for  one  person — for  two  per 
sons,  indeed  with  Mrs.  Weaver — in  trying  to  save 
another  ?  I  like  these  good  people.  They  are  very 
kind  to  their  prisoners.  They  have  spent  much  of 
their  own  money  to  give  them  little  comforts.  Can  we 
not  think  of  some  other  way,  as  good  as  this,  to  get 
poor  Goody  out  and  do  no  harm  to  innocent  people  ?  " 

Weaver  was  ready  to  break  into  tears.  He  started 
to  repeat,  "  Bring  me  some  one  to " 

"  Oh  !  Oh,  I  know  !  I  know  what  to  do  !  "  cried 
Garde,  interrupting.  "  All  yon  need  is  some  one  else 
to  blame,  when  they  find  she  is  gone  !  It  would  never 
be  your  fault  if  some  one  took  her  place.  It  would  be 
a  trick  on  you,  when  they  found  it  out.  I'll  take  her 


422  Hearts  of  Grace 

place.  I'll  take  her  place,  because  when  they  find  out 
they  are  starting  to  try  only  me,  they  will  have  to 
laugh  it  off  as  a  joke.  And  Grandther  is  one  of  the 
magistrates — appointed  to-day — so  they  will  have  to 
let  me  go — and  Goody  will  be  far  away,  by  then — and 
no  one  will  get  into  trouble  !  " 

"  No  one  could  blame  me — nor  they  wouldn't,"  said 
Weaver,  slowly,  "but  as  for  you,  Miss " 

"  Then  we  can  do  it ! "  Garde  broke  in,  a  little 
wildly.  "  Oh,  hurry  !  we  might  be  too  late.  You  can 
put  me  wherever  Goody  is,  and  I  can  change  clothes 
with  her,  and  then,  Adam " 

"  Yes,  but "  started  Adam. 

"  Oh,  let  me,  dear.  I  shan't  mind  it  a  bit.  And  in 
the  morning  it  will  all  be  over,  and  Goody  will  be  safe, 
and  no  one  harmed — and  there  is  no  other  way.  And 
I  want  to  !  Oh,  Goody  has  been  like  a  mother  to  me  ! 
I  must  do  it.  Please  don't  say  anything  more.  Mr. 
Weaver,  take  me  to  Goody  now  ! " 

"  You  brave  little  woman  ! "  said  Adam,  his  own 
courage  leaping  to  greet  this  intrepid  spirit  in  his 
sweetheart.  "  I  believe  you  can  do  it !  We  shall 
win  ! » 

"  Come  back  as  early  as  you  can,"  said  Garde,  on 
whom  a  thought  of  the  lonely  part  of  the  business  was 
suddenly  impressed.  "  It  won't  seem  long.  And 
when  it  is  over,  I  shall  feel  so  glad  I  could  do  a  little 
thing  for  Goody.  We  must  hurry.  Every  moment 
may  be  precious  ! " 

"  But,  lassie "  the  jailer  tried  to  insist  once  more, 

«yOU " 

"  Please  don't  talk  any  more,"  said  Garde.     "  Take 


Garde's  Subteafuge.  423 

me  to  her  now.  And  when  somebody  looking  like  me 
comes  back,  let  her  go  out  by  Mrs.  Weaver's  door 
with  Mr.  Rust." 

"  Yes,  I,  but " 

"In  the  King's  name,  no  more  talk,"  interrupted 
Adam.  Then  he  turned  to  Garde.  "  You  won't  be 
timid,  little  mate  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  shall  not  be  gone 
past  midnight  at  the  most." 

"  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  think  I  am  leaving  Goody  in 
your  strong,  dear  hands,"  said  Garde,  with  a  smile  of 
love  in  her  eyes.  "  Good-by,  dear, — good  night,  till 
the  morning." 

She  kissed  him,  and  smiling  at  him  bravely,  followed 
the  jailer,  who  saw  that  his  place  in  the  jail  depended 
now  on  compliance  with  Adam's  and  Garde's  demand. 
The  tremulous  pressure  of  her  little  hand  in  his  re 
mained  with  Adam  when  she  had  gone.  He  wondered 
if  he  were  doing  well,  thus  to  let  his  sweetheart  assume 
poor  Goody's  place.  Then  his  own  boldness  of  spirit 
rebuked  him  and  he  laughed  at  the  imaginary  scene 
of  the  magistrates,  when  they  should  finally  discover 
their  trial  to  be  nothing  but  a  farce. 

Weaver  meantime  took  a  candle  in  his  hand  and  led 
the  way  down  the  corridor  of  the  prison.  Garde 
hesitated  when  she  saw  him  descending  the  steps. 

"Why — where  is  she  ?"  she  asked,  timidly. 

"In  the  dungeon,  lass,"  said  the  jailer.  "I  was 
over  sorry,  but  it  could  not  be  helped.  We  are  full 
everywhere  else.  But  I  shall  leave  you  the  light,  and 
anything  you  like  for  comfort.  Only,  if  you  hear  any 
one  coming,  blow  out  the  candle  straightway,  or  I 
shall  be  in  a  peck  of  troubles." 


424  Hearts  of  Grace 

Quelling  her  sense  of  terror,  and  thinking  of 
Goody,  alone  in  that  darkness,  with  such  dreadful 
fates  awaiting  her  reappearance  among  the  people,  she 
promised  herself  again  it  would  soon  be  over,  and  so 
followed  resolutely  down  into  the  hole  where  Adam 
had  once  been  locked,  in  those  long-past  days  of 
despair. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  MIDNIGHT  TRIAL. 

GOODY  DUNE  was  a  frightened  and  pitiable  spectacle, 
with  her  age  and  the  terrors  of  the  dungeon  and  com 
ing  execution  upon  her.  She  struggled  in  an  effort  to 
maintain  a  show  of  composure,  at  sight  of  Garde  and 
the  jailer.  Nevertheless  she  would  not,  at  first,  listen 
to  a  word  of  the  plan  of  substitution,  to  get  her  away 
from  the  prison. 

When  at  last  she  had  fairly  overridden  Goody's  ob 
jections,  and  had  made  her  complete  the  exchange  of 
garments,  Garde  kissed  her  with  all  the  affection  of  a 
daughter,  and  sent  her  forth  to  Adam's  protection. 
She  then  heard  the  lock  in  the  dungeon-door  shoot 
squeakingly  into  place  with  a  little  thrill  of  fear,  which 
nothing  human  and  womanly  could  have  escaped. 

She  listened  to  the  footfalls  receding  down  the  cor 
ridor,  and  then  the  utter  silence  of  the  place  began  to 
make  itself  ring  in  her  ears.  She  looked  about  her,  by 
the  aid  of  the  flickering  light  which  the  tallow  dip  was 
furnishing,  at  the  barren  walls,  the  shadows,  and  the 
heap  of  straw  in  the  corner.  At  all  this  she  gave  a 
little  shiver  of  dread. 

All  the  excitement  which  had  buoyed  her  up  to 
make  this  moment  possible  escaped  from  her  rapidly. 

425 


426  Hearts  of  Grace 

She  began  to  think  how  Goody  must  have  felt,  till  her 
moment  of  deliverance  came.  Then  she  thought  of 
what  Adam  had  endured  when,  lame,  hungry,  exhausted 
and  defamed,  he  had  been  thrown  with  violence  into  this 
horrible  hole,  from  which  he  could  have  had  no  thought 
of  being  rescued. 

She  took  the  candle  in  hand  and  went  in  search  of 
the  tiny  window,  down  through  which  she  had  dropped 
him  the  keys.  When  she  saw  it,  she  gave  a  little 
shudder,  to  note  how  small  it  was,  and  how  it  per 
mitted  no  light  to  enter  the  place. 

Keturning  then  to  a  paper,  filled  with  bread  and 
butter,  pie,  cake  and  cold  meat,  which  Weaver  had 
fetched  her,  while  she  and  Goody  had  been  exchanging 
garments,  she  tried  to  eat  a  little,  to  occupy  her  time 
and  her  thoughts.  But  she  could  only  take  a  sip  of 
the  milk,  which  stood  beside  the  paper,  and  a  nibble  at 
the  bread.  To  eat,  while  in  her  present  state  of  mind, 
was  out  of  the  question. 

The  stillness  seemed  to  increase.  She  felt  little 
creeps  of  chill  running  down  her  shoulders.  What  a 
terrible  thing  it  would  be  to  have  no  hope  of  leaving 
this  fearful  cellar  !  Suppose  anything  should  happen 
to  Adam,  to  prevent  him  from  returning  !  How  long 
would  it  be  till  morning  ?  Surely  she  must  have 
been  there  nearly  an  hour  already.  She  clasped  her 
hands,  that  were  cold  as  ice.  She  almost  wished  she 
had  not  tried  this  solution  of  the  difficulty.  Then  she 
remembered  the  wise  old  woman,  who  had  made  her 
neighbors'  children  her  own  care — as  she  had  no  sons 
nor  daughters  of  her  own — and  who  had  been  sister, 
mother  and  friend  to  Hester  Hodder,  and  guardian 


The  Midnight  Trial.  427 

angel,  teacher  and  kindly  spirit  over  herself.  This 
made  her  calmer,  for  a  time,  and  again  courageous. 

When  once  more  the  dread  of  the  place  and  the 
ringing  silence  and  the  doubts  that  seemed  to  lurk  in 
the  shadows,  came  stealing  back,  she  thought  of  Adam, 
rehearsing  every  incident  in  every  time  they  had  ever 
met.  And  thus  she  lingered  long  over  that  walk  from 
Plymouth  to  Boston. 

In  the  midst  of  sweet  reveries  which  really  did  much 
to  dissipate  her  qualms  and  chills,  she  heard  someone 
walking  heavily  along  in  the  corridor  above  her. 
Swiftly  calling  to  mind  what  the  jailer  had  said  about 
the  light,  she  blew  it  out  and  stood  trembling  with 
nervousness,  waiting  for  the  door  to  open  before 
her. 

But  the  sounds  of  heavy  boots  on  the  upper  floor 
presently  halted.  Then  they  retreated.  She  breathed 
more  freely.  And  then — she  suddenly  felt  the  dark 
ness  all  about  her. 

Fear  that  some  one  had  been  about  to  enter  had,  for 
the  moment,  made  her  oblivious  of  the  curtain  of 
gloom  which  closed  in  so  thickly  when  she  blew  out 
the  candle.  Now,  when  she  realized  that  she  could 
not  again  ignite  that  wick,  a  horror  spread  through 
her,  till  she  closed  her  eyes  and  sank  on  the  floor  in 
despair. 

The  time  that  passed  was  interminable.  She  had 
not  thought  of  how  terrible  the  dungeon  would  be 
without  the  candle.  She  could  almost  have  screamed, 
thus  to  be  so  deprived  of  the  kindly  light  which  had 
made  the  place  comparatively  cheerful.  But  she 
pulled  up  her  resolution  once  again,  thinking  how 


428  Hearts  of  Grace 

Goody  and  Adam  had  endured  nothing  but  darkness, 
and  with  no  hope  of  succor  such  as  she  could  see  illu 
minating  her  hours  of  dread. 

Midnight  came  at  last  and  found  Garde  unstrung. 
When  the  tramp  of  many  feet  rang  above  her,  at  last, 
she  welcomed  the  thought  that  some  one  was  near. 
She  hoped  it  was  morning  and  that  Adam  had  re 
turned.  But  then  she  heard  a  jangle  of  keys,  and 
footfalls  on  the  steps  leading  down  to  where  she  was, 
and  her  heart  stood  still. 

In  the  natural  consternation  which  the  hour,  the 
darkness  and  the  suspense  had  brought  upon  her,  she 
hastily  hid  her  head  and  face  in  Goody's  shawl,  and 
bending  over,  to  represent  the  older  woman,  she 
tremblingly  saw  the  door  swing  open  and  heard  the 
jailer  command  her  to  come  forth. 

With  her  heart  beating  violently  and  her  knees 
quaking  beneath  her,  Garde  came  out,  relieved  in 
some  ways  to  flee  from  that  awful  hole  of  darkness, 
but  frightened,  when  she  saw  the  array  of  stern-faced 
men,  who  had  come,  as  she  instantly  comprehended, 
to  take  her  away  to  a  trial. 

There  was  not  one  among  the  five  or  six  men  that 
she  knew.  She  remembered  the  faces  of  Pinchbecker 
and  Higgler,  having  seen  them  in  the  morning,  when 
Goody  was  taken,  but  the  others  were  witnesses  that 
Kandolph  had  sent  from  Salem,  experts  in  swearing 
away  the  lives  of  witches.  They  too  had  been  present 
at  the  capture  of  Goody. 

Undetected  as  she  was,  Garde  was  surrounded  by 
this  sinister  group  of  men,  and  was  marched  away, 
out  of  the  jail,  into  the  sweet  summer's  night  air,  and 


The  Midnight  Trial.  429 

so  down  a  deserted  street,  to  a  building  she  had  never 
entered  before  in  her  life. 

Hardly  had  the  prison  been  left  behind  when  Adam 
Rust,  swiftly  returning,  after  having  readily  provided 
for  the  safe  escape  of  Goody  Dune,  came  galloping  into 
Boston,  his  brain  on  fire  with  a  scheme  of  boldness. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  ride  straight  to  the 
prison,  demand  admittance,  compel  the  jailer  to  deliver 
Garde  up  at  once,  carry  her  straight  to  a  parson's, 
marry  his  sweetheart  forthwith,  and  then  take  her  off 
to  New  Amsterdam.  Weaver  could  blame  the  rescue 
of  the  witch  to  him  and  be  welcome.  He  could  even 
permit  Adam  to  tie  him  and  gag  him,  to  make  the 
story  more  complete,  but  submit  he  should,  or  Rust 
would  know  the  reason.  His  wild  ride  had  begotten 
the  scheme  in  his  adventure-hungry  mind. 

He  knew  the  residence  of  the  parson  who  had 
married  Henry  Wainsworth  and  Prudence  Soam,  the 
week  before  he  and  Phipps  had  returned  to  Massachu 
setts,  for  Garde  had  told  him  all  the  particulars,  time 
after  time — having  marriage  in  her  own  sweet  thought, 
as  indeed  she  should.  He  therefore  went  first  to  this 
parson's,  knocked  hotly  on  the  door,  to  get  him  out 
of  bed,  and  bade  him  be  prepared  to  perform  the  cere 
mony  within  the  hour. 

The  parson  had  readily  agreed,  being  a  man  amenable 
to  sense  and  to  the  luster  of  gold  in  the  palm,  where 
fore  Adam  had  gone  swiftly  off  to  work  the  tour  de 
force  on  which  all  else  depended.  He  arrived  at  the 
jail  when  Garde  had  been  gone  for  fifteen  minutes. 
Here  he  learned  with  amazement  of  the  midnight  trial 
to  which  slie  had  been  so  summarily  led. 


430  Hearts  of  Grace 

Trembling  like  a  leaf,  Garde  was  conducted  into  a 
chamber  adjoining  the  room  wherein  the  dread  magis 
trates  were  sitting,  with  their  minds  already  convinced 
that  this  was  a  case  so  flagrant  that  to  permit  the  witch 
to  live  through  the  night  would  be  to  impair  the 
heavenly  heritage  of  every  soul  in  Boston. 

Here  the  girl  was  left,  in  charge  of  Gallows  and  two 
other  ruffianly  brutes,  whose  immunity  from  the  evil 
powers  of  witches  had  been  thoroughly  established  in 
former  cases.  In  the  meantime  her  accusers  had  gone 
before  the  magistrates,  ahead  of  herself,  to  relate  the 
unspeakable  things  of  which  Goody  Dune  had  been 
guilty. 

Shaking,  not  daring  to  look  up,  nor  to  utter  a  sound, 
Garde  had  tried  to  summon  the  courage  to  throw  off 
the  whole  disguise,  laugh  at  her  captors  and  declare 
who  she  was,  but  before  she  should  arrive  in  the  pres 
ence  of  Grandther  Donner,  who  would  protect  her 
and  verify  her  story,  at  least  as  to  who  she  was,  she  could 
not  possibly  make  the  attempt. 

Terribly  wrought  upon  by  the  suspense  of  waiting 
to  be  summoned  before  that  stern  tribunal  of  injustice, 
Garde  began  to  think  of  the  anger  which  these  unmirth- 
f ul  men  might  show,  when  she  revealed  the  joke  before 
their  astounded  eyes.  She  swayed,  weakly,  almost 
ready  to  swoon,  so  great  became  her  alarm. 

She  could  hear  the  high  voices  of  Psalms  Higgler 
and  Isaiah  Pinchbecker,  penetrating  through  the  door. 
They  were  giving  their  testimony,  in  which  they  had 
been  so  well  coached  by  Edward  Eandolph,  who  was 
even  now  in  there  among  the  witnesses,  disguised,  and 
keeping  as  much  as  possible  in  the  background. 


The  Midnight  Trial.  431 

The  door  presently  opened  and  Garde  was  bidden  to 
enter.  Her  heart  pounded  with  tumultuous  strokes  in 
her  breast.  She  could  barely  put  one  foot  before  the 
other.  She  caught  at  the  door-frame  to  prop  herself 
up  as  she  entered  the  dimly-lighted,  shadow-haunted 
room. 

Then  her  gaze  leaped  swiftly  up  where  the  magis 
trates  were  sitting.  She  saw  strangers  only — men  she 
knew  in  the  town,  but  not  David  Donner.  She  felt  she 
should  faint,  when  one  of  the  men  turned  about,  and 
she  recognized  her  grandfather,  looking  feverish,  wild- 
eyed  and  hardly  sane.  This  was  why  she  had  not 
known  him  sooner. 

"Oh,  Grandther!"  she  suddenly  cried.  "It's  I! 
It's  Garde  !  Oh,  save  me  !  Oh,  take  me  home  ! " 

She  flung  off  Goody's  shawl,  and  darting  forward  ran 
to  her  grandfather's  side  and  threw  her  arms  like  a 
child  about  his  neck,  where  she  sobbed  hysterically  and 
laughed  and  begged  him  to  take  her  away. 

The  court  was  smitten  with  astonishment  from  which, 
no  one  could,  for  the  moment,  recover. 

Randolph  had  pressed  quickly  forward.  But  he  now 
retired  again  into  the  shadow. 

"  What's  this  ?  What's  this  ?"  demanded  the  chief 
of  the  magistrates,  sternly.  "What  business  is  this  ? 
What  does  this  mean  ?  Where  is ' 

"  Witchcraft !  A  young  witch  !  Cheated  !  We  are 
cheated  !  The  young  witch  has  cheated  us  of  the  old 
witch  ! "  cried  Pinch  becker,  shrilly. 

"  My  child!  My  child! "  said  David  Donner.  "  This 
is  no  witch,  fellow-magistrates  and  friends." 

(<  She  has  cheated  us  of  the  old  witch  !  "  repeated 


43 2  Hearts  of  Grace 

Pinchbecker  wildly.  "  She  has  daily  consorted  with  a 
notorious  witch.  She  has  aided  a  witch  to  escape. 
She  is  a  witch  herself  !  We  know  them  thus  !  She  is 
a  dangerous  witch  !  She  is  a  terrible  young  witch  ! " 

"  How  comes  this  ?  "  said  the  chief  again,  excitedly. 
His  associates  also  demanded  to  know  how  this  busi 
ness  came  to  be  possible,  and  what  was  its  meaning. 
The  room  was  filled  with  the  shrill  cries  of  the  men  de 
nouncing  Garde  more  stridently  than  before,  and  with 
the  exclamations  of  astonishment  and  shouts  to  know 
what  had  become  of  the  witch  they  had  come  there  to  try. 

During  all  this  confusion,  Garde  was  clinging  to  her 
grandfather  and  begging  him  to  take  her  home. 

"  Have  the  girl  stand  forth,"  commanded  the  chief 
magistrate.  ' '  We  must  know  how  this  business  has 
happened." 

Three  of  the  men  laid  hold  of  Garde  and  took  her 
from  her  wondering  grandfather's  side.  She  regained 
her  composure  by  making  a  mighty  effort. 

"  Goody  Dune  was  no  witch  ! "  she  cried.  "  You  all 
know  what  a  good,  kind  woman  she  has  been  among 
you  for  years — till  this  madness  came  upon  us  !  She 
is  a  good  woman — and  I  love  her,  for  all  she  has  done. 
She  is  not  a  witch — you  know  she  is  not  a  witch  ! " 

The  witnesses,  who  knew  all  the  ways  in  which 
witches  were  to  be  detected,  raised  their  voices  at  once, 
in  protest. 

"  Order  in  the  Court ! "  commanded  the  magistrate. 
"  Young  woman,  have  you  connived  to  let  this  Goody 
Dune  escape  ?  " 

"  She  was  no  witch  ! "  repeated  Garde,  courageously 
now.  "  I  knew  you  would  try  to  send  her  to  the  -gal- 


The  Midnight  Trial.  433 

lows.  I  knew  she  was  fore-condemned  !  I  could  do 
no  less — and  you  men  could  have  done  no  less,  had  you 
been  less  mad  ! " 

"  Blasphemy  ! "  cried  Higgler.  "  She  is  convicted 
out  of  her  own  mouth  !  " 

"  When  a  witch  is  young/'  cried  Pinchbecker,  "  she 
can  work  ten  times  more  awful  evils  and  arts  ! " 

One  of  the  magistrates  spoke  :  "  No  woman  ever  yet 
was  beautiful  and  clever  both  at  one  time.  If  she  be 
the  one,  she  cannot  be  the  other.  This  young  woman, 
being  both,  is  clearly  a  witch  ! " 

"  She's  a  witch — worse  than  the  other  ! "  screamed 
another  of  the  witnesses.  "  Condemn  her  !  Condemn 
her ! " 

"  Oh,  Grandther,"  cried  Garde,  "  take  me  away 
from  these  terrible  men  !  " 

Randolph  now  came  sneaking  forth,  out  of  the 
shadow. 

"  This  is  that  same  young  woman,"  he  cried,  "  who 
lost  the  colony  its  charter  ! " 

"  The  charter  ! "  screamed  David  Donner,  instantly 
a  maniac.  "  The  charter  !  She  lost  us  the  charter  ! 
Witch  !  The  charter !  Condemn  her  !  Kill  her  ! 
The  charter !  She  !  She  !  She  !  Kill  her  !— Where 
is  she  ?  The  charter  !  The  charter  !  The  charter  ! " 

With  his  two  bony,  palsied  hands  raised  high  above 
his  head,  like  fearful  talons,  with  his  white  hair  awry 
over  his  brow,  with  his  eyes  blazing  with  maniacal  fire, 
the  old  man  had  suddenly  stood  up  and  now  he  came 
staggering  forward,  screaming  in  a  blood-chilling  voice 
and  making  snch  an  apparition  of  horror  that  the  men 
fell  backward  from  his  path. 

2& 


434  Hearts  of  Grace 

"  Oh  Grandther  !  Grandther  !"  cried  Garde,  hold 
ing  forth  her  arms  and  going  toward  him,  to  catch  him 
as  she  saw  him  come  stumbling  toward  her. 

"Witch  !"  screamed  the  old  man  shrilly.  "Kill 
her  !  Kill  her  !  I  never  coerced  her  !  The  charter  ! 
Witch  !  Witch  !  The  charter  !  " 

He  suddenly  choked.  He  clutched  at  his  heart  in  a 
wild,  spasmodic  manner,  and  with  froth  bursting  from 
his  lips,  he  fell  headlong  to  the  floor  and  was  dead. 

"She  has  killed  him  !"  cried  Higgler.  "She  has 
killed  him  with  her  hellish  power  ! " 

"  Witch  !    A  murderous  young  witch  !  " 

"  Condemn  her  !  Condemn  her  !  "  came  in  a  terri 
ble  chorus. 

"  To  the  gallows  !  Hale  her  to  the  gallows  !  "  Kan- 
dolph  added  from  the  rear. 

The  man  called  Gallows  thought  this  referred  to 
him.  He  grinned.  He  and  the  two  brutes  who  had 
handled  many  defenseless  witches  before,  came 
toward  the  girl,  who  stood  as  if  petrified,  her  hand 
pressed  against  her  heart  in  dumb  anguish. 

Suddenly  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  in  there  came 
Governor  Phipps,  cane  in  hand,  periwig  adjusted,  cloak 
of  office  on  his  shoulders.  He  was  blowing  his  nose  as 
he  entered,  so  that  no  one  saw  his  face  plainly,  yet  all 
knew  the  tall,  commanding  figure  and  the  dress. 

"  What,  a  trial,  at  night,  and  without  me  ?  "  he 
roared,  in  a  towering  rage,  which  many  present  had 
already  learned  to  fear.  (t  Is  this  your  province,  you 
magistrates,  assembled  to  deal  out  justice  ?  Do  you 
heckle  a  defenseless  woman  like  this  ?  Disperse  ! — the 
whole  of  you,  instantly.  I  command  it !  If  you  have 


The  Midnight  Trial.  435 

condemned,  I  pardon.  The  prisoner  will  leave  the 
court  with  me  ! " 

The  men,  craven  that  they  were,  he  could  deceive, 
but  Garde  knew  the  voice,  the  gait,  the  bearing  of  her 
lover.  She  sprang  to  his  side  with  a  little  cry  of 
gladness  and  clung  to  him  wildly,  as  his  strong  arm 
swung  boldly  about  her  waist.  She  could  hardly 
more  than  stand,  so  tremendous  had  been  the  stress  of 
her  fearful  emotions. 

Scorning  to  expend  further  scolding  or  shaming  upon 
them,  and  comprehending  that  delay  had  no  part  in 
his  game,  Adam  turned  his  back  on  the  slinking  com 
pany  and  strode  away,  half  supporting  Garde,  who  hung 
so  limply  in  his  hold. 

Randolph,  baffled,  afraid  to  reveal  himself  by  de 
nouncing  the  imposture  which  he  had  been  only  a 
second  behind  Garde  in  detecting,  stole  close  to  his 
henchmen  and  whispered  the  truth  in  their  ears. 

Higgler  and  Pinchbecker,  conscious  of  the  blood  of 
Adam  on  their  hands,  felt  their  knees  knock  suddenly 
together.  The  man  must  be  the  very  devil  himself. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    GAUNTLET   RUN. 

WITH  his  bride  up  behind  him  on  his  horse,  the 
rover  spurred  swiftly  away  from  the  parson's,  still  within 
the  hour,  in  which  he  had  promised  to  return  to  his 
wedding.  Unafraid  of  whatsoever  the  world,  before 
or  behind,  might  contain,  while  her  lover-husband 
lived  at  her  side,  Garde  felt  a  sense  of  exhilaration,  at 
leaving  Boston,  such  as  she  had  never  known  in  all 
her  life. 

With  her  grandfather  dead  and  Goody  no  longer  at 
the  little  cottage  on  the  skirts  of  town,  she  had  no 
ties  remaining,  save  those  at  the  houses  of  Soam  and 
Phipps.  And  what  were  these,  when  weighed  in  the 
balance  against  Adam  Rust — her  Adam, — her  mighty 
lord? 

Trembling  and  clinging  as  she  was,  he  had  carried 
her  off.  Gladly  she  had  gone  to  the  parson's.  Her 
heart  now  rejoiced,  as  he  told  her  that  Massachusetts 
was  behind  them  forever.  For  its  people,  with  their 
harsh,  mirthless  lives  of  austerity  and  fanaticism,  she 
had  only  love  enough  to  give  them  her  pity.  But  her 
life  was  life  indeed,  when,  ever  and  anon,  Adam  halted 
the  horse,  lest  she  fear  a  fall,  and  twisted  about  to 
give  her  a  kiss  and  a  chuckle  of  love  and  to  tell  of  the 
way  he  had  cheated  the  mob  and  the  court  of  their 
witches. 
436 


The  Gauntlet  Run.  437 

"Make  no  doubt  of  it,  you  are  a  witch — one  of 
the  sweetest,  cleverest,  bravest,  most  adorable  little 
witches  that  ever  lived,"  he  said,  "and  I  love  you  and 
love  you  for  it,  my  darling  wife  !  " 

They  had  left  the  town  early  in  the  morning.  By 
break  of  day  they  were  not  so  far  from  Boston  as  Adam 
could  have  wished.  The  horse  had  been  wearied  by 
carrying  double,  when  he  conveyed  Goody  Dune  to  a 
place  of  safety, — so  that  the  old  woman  could  subse 
quently  join  himself  and  Garde  in  New  Amsterdam, — 
and  therefore  he  had  halted  the  animal  humanely, 
from  time  to  time,  as  the  load  under  which  the  good 
beast  was  now  working  was  not  a  trifle. 

Having  avoided  the  main  road,  for  the  greater  part 
of  the  remaining  hours  of  darkness,  Adam  deemed  it 
safe  at  last  to  return  to  the  highway,  as  he  thought  it 
unlikely  they  had  been  pursued  under  any  circum 
stances.  Thus  the  sun  came  up  as  they  were  quietly 
jogging  along  toward  a  copse  of  trees  through  which 
the  road  went  winding  with  many  an  invitation  of 
beauty  to  beckon  them  on. 

Crossing  a  noisy  little  brook,  the  rover  permitted  the 
horse  to  stop  for  a  drink.  Not  to  be  wasting  the  pre 
cious  time,  Adam  turned  himself  half  way  around  in 
the  saddle,  as  he  had  done  so  frequently  before,  and 
gave  his  bride  a  fair  morning  salute. 

He  had  then  barely  ridden  the  horse  a  rod  from  the 
stream,  when,  without  the  slightest  warning,  the  figure 
of  Gallows,  mounted  on  a  great  black  steed,  suddenly 
broke  from  cover  among  the  trees  and  bore  down  upon 
them. 

The  great  hulk,  sword  in  hand,  made  a  quick  dash 


43 8  Hearts  of  Grace 

toward  the  defenceless  two,  and  slashed  at  Garde  with 
all  his  fearful  might. 

Jerking  his  horse  nearly  out  of  the  road,  Adam 
swung  from  the  line  of  the  brute's  cowardly  stroke,  yet 
before  he  could  do  aught  to  prevent  it,  Gallows  righted, 
flung  out  his  leaden  fist  and  dragged  the  girl  fairly  off 
from  her  seat,  till  she  struck  on  the  back  of  her  head, 
among  the  rocks  of  the  road,  and  lay  there  unconscious, 
and  almost  beneath  the  tread  of  the  horse's  prancing 
feet. 

Then  the  monster  spurred  at  his  horse  and  turning 
him  back,  rode  to  drive  him  madly  over  the  prostrate 
form  in  the  dust. 

Making  a  short,  sharp  cry  of  anger,  Adam  whipped 
out  his  sword  and  dashed  upon  the  murderous  butcher 
before  he  could  get  within  fifteen  feet  of  Garde,  where 
she  lay  in  the  sunlight. 

Gallows  had  plenty  of  time  to  see  him  coming.  The 
two  met  in  a  tremendous  collision  of  steel  on  steel 
that  sounded  a  clangor  through  the  woods  and  sent  the 
two  swords  flying  from  their  owners'  grips. 

Disarmed,  the  pair  thudded  together  in  a  swift  and 
hot  embrace,  sawing  their  horses  close  in,  the  more 
firmly  and  straight  erect  to  hold  their  seats. 

"  You  be  a  fool  and  I  be  the  fool-killer  ! "  roared 
Gallows,  hoarsely.  He  tugged  with  his  giant  strength, 
to  drag  Adam  fairly  across  to  his  own  big  saddle,  where 
he  could  either  break  his  back  or  beat  him  to  death 
with  the  butt  of  a  pistol,  which  he  was  trying  to  draw 
with  the  hand  that  held  the  reins. 

Slipping  his  wrist  under  the  chin  and  his  hand 
around  to  the  fellow's  massive  shoulder,  Adam  tilted 


The  Gauntlet  Run.  439 

back  the  heavy  head  with  a  force  so  great  that  Gallows 
was  glad  to  release  his  hold,  else  he  would  surely  have 
toppled  from  his  perch. 

The  horses  leaped  a  little  apart.  Back  their  riders 
jerked  them.  Again  the  two  big  human  forms  shot  to 
gether,  and  clung  in  a  fierce  embrace,  like  two  massive 
chunks  of  iron,  welded  together  by  their  impact.  Once 
more  Gallows  used  his  great  brute  strength,  while 
Rust  employed  his  wit  and  got  his  same  terrible  lever 
age  on  the  monster's  neck. 

For  a  moment  Gallows  fought  to  try  to  break  the 
hold,  and  to  drag  his  opponent  headlong  from  his 
horse,  by  kicking  Adam's  animal  stoutly  in  the  flank. 
But  Adam  was  inflicting  such  an  agony  upon  him  as 
he  could  not  endure.  They  broke  away,  only  to  rush 
for  the  third  time,  back  to  this  giant  wrestling. 

"  The  fool  will  never  learn.  I  shall  kill  him  yet  \" 
cried  Rust  to  himself,  for  he  went  for  Gallows's  neck 
as  before  and  got  it  again  in  his  hold. 

He  threw  a  tremendous  strength  into  the  struggle. 
Gallows  let  out  a  bellow.  Releasing  the  reins,  he  threw 
both  his  arms  about  his  foe  and  deliberately  fell  from 
his  seat,  with  the  intention  of  crushing  Rust  beneath 
his  weight,  on  the  ground. 

Adam's  turn  in  the  air  was  the  work  of  the  expert 
wrestler.  The  horses  shied  nervously  away. 

The  two  were  up  on  their  feet  and  telescoped  ab 
ruptly  in  one  compact,  struggling  mass,  as  if  two  mal 
leable  statues  of  heroic  size  had  suddenly  been  bent 
and  intertwisted  together. 

With  his  ox-like  force  Gallows  began  to  force  Adam 
backward.  Adam  let  him  expend  himself  in  this 


44°  Hearts  of  Grace 

manner  for  a  moment.  He  then  discovered  the  great 
hulk's  design.  He  meant  to  force  the  rover  to  where 
Garde  was  still  lying,  and  so  to  trample  upon  her  till 
the  life  should  be  stamped  and  ground  from  her  help 
less  form. 

Randolph  had  sent  him  to  commit  this  final  infamy. 

The  rage  that  leaped  up  in  Adam's  breast  was  a  ter 
rible  thing.  He  feinted  to  drop  as  if  in  exhaustion. 
Gallows  loosened  his  hold  to  snatch  a  better  one,  at 
once.  In  that  second  Adam  dealt  him  a  blow  in  the 
stomach  that  all  but  felled  him  where  he  stood. 

Before  he  could  straighten  to  recover,  Rust  was  upon 
him  like  a  tiger.  Getting  around  the  great  brute's 
side,  he  threw  both  hands  around  the  short,  thick  neck 
and  twisted  himself  into  position  so  that  he  and  Gal 
lows  were  placed  nearly  back  to  back.  Then  with  one* 
movement  he  lifted  at  the  man's  whole  weight,  with 
the  monster's  head  as  a  lever,  hauled  fiercely  backward. 
Into  the  action  he  threw  such  a  mighty  rush  of  strength 
that  Gallows  was  hoisted  bodily  off  the  ground,  for  a 
second,  and  then  his  neck  gave  forth  a  tremendous  snap 
and  was  broken  so  fearfully  that  one  of  the  jagged  ends 
of  a  vertebra  stabbed  outward  through  the  flesh,  and 
dripped  with  red. 

The  whole  dead  weight  of  the  fellow's  carcass  rested 
for  a  second  on  Rust's  back  and  shoulder,  and  then 
Adam  let  him  fall  to  the  ground,  where,  like  a  slain 
hog,  he  rolled  heavily  over  and  moved  no  more. 

Panting,  fierce-eyed,  ready  to  slay  him  again,  Adam 
stood  above  the  body  for  a  moment,  his  jaws  set,  his 
fists  clenched  hard  in  the  rage  still  upon  him. 

Then  he  heard  a  little  moan,  and  turning  about  saw 


Gauntlet  Run.  441 

Garde,  attempfr'jing  ^0  rajse  herself  upward,  in  the  road. 

He    ran   to    ner  instantly  and  propped  her  up  on  his 

knee. 

'•'  Deadest,  dearest/'  he  said,  "are  you  badly  hurt  ? 

Gardo,    iet   me   help    you.     Don't    look— don't    look 

ther*e.     It's  all  right.     Here,  let  me  get  you  back  to 

&»»;  shade." 

He  took  her  up  tenderly  in  his  arms  and  carried  her 

-out  of  the  road  to  a  near-by  bank  of  moss.  Here  he 
sat  her  down,  mtk  her  back  to  a  tree,  and  ran  to  fill 
his  hat  with  "water  from  the  stream. 

The  two  Ifrorses,  having  stopped  to  take  a  supplement 
ary  drink,  aitti  a  nibble  at  the  grass,  were  easily  caught. 
The  rover  secured  them  both  and  tied  them  quickly  to 
a  basK,  with  the  dragging  reins.  Then  back  to  Garde 
he  nram  "with  the  water. 
'"Oh,  thank  you,  dear,"  she  said,  "I  don't  think  I 

mm.  hurt.     But  with  the  fright,  and  the  fall,  I  think 

^  must  have  fainted." 

"  Thank  God  ! "  said  Adam,  as  she  drank  from  his 
hat  and  smiled  in  his  face,  a  little  faintly,  but  with  an 
infinite  love  in  her  two  brown  eyes.  "  Thank  God, 
for  this  delivery.  There  will  be  no  more  trouble.  I 
feel  it !  I  know  it.  At  last  we  have  run  the  gaunt 
let." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BEWITCHED. 

IN  his  tidy  little  honse  in  New  Amsterdam,  Adam 
sat  reading  a  letter  from  Governor  William  Phipps, 
written  at  Boston. 

"I  forgyve  you  yr  merrie  empersonashun  and  all  ye 
other  things  alsoe,  save  ye  going  away  without  goode- 
bye,"  he  read,  "but  let  it  pass.  I  wd  write  to  say  God 
Blesse  you  bothe.  And  as  I  have  never  known  such  a 
goode  blade  as  yre  in  fight,  I  wd  offer  you  to  make  you 
my  commander  of  ye  forces  to  goe  in  war  against  ye 
French,  where  they  do  threat  to  harasse  our  peeple  as 
of  yore " 

Adam  halted  here  and  looked  up  at  the  battered  old 
sword  on  the  wall.  His  thought  went  truant,  to  his 
helpmate,  away  for  a  few  minutes'  walk  to  Goody 
Dune's.  He  shook  his  head  at  the  Governor's  generous 
offer. 

"  Well,  well,  William,"  he  said  aloud,  "I  don't  know. 
I  don't  know  what  may  be  the  matter,  but — no  more 
fighting  for  me,  old  comrade.  I  think  it  must  be  that 
I — am  bewitched." 

THE  END. 
442 


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co  ro 


J  1.  Maw»chu»ett»—  Hi 

tl.  Kdghels,  Philip 
witch  is  young. 


Mr 

H 


s! 


P 


